


Wandering Paths

by skatzaa



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Death, Clandestine, F/M, Happenstance, Integrity, Maelstrom - Freeform, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot Collection, Reincarnation, Rue - Freeform, Voyage, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2015, vigil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zutara, only it tends to be a long time in the making. My entries for ZK Week 2015. Cross posted on ff.net.</p><p>Day 7: Maelstrom. The village of Tonrar has two guardian spirits, but they spend all of their time together fighting with fire and water. No one is quite sure why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happenstance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happenstance
> 
> [Coincidental; a coincidence]

Zuko is twenty-two and has life completely figured out when he literally bumps into his soulmate and still manages to let her get away from him.

He’s not quite sure how it happens, to be perfectly honest.

*

He presses end call and slips his phone into his apron pocket. He is already almost late to his shift at the Jasmine Dragon, and though he knows Uncle Iroh doesn’t mind, Zuko does. If only Azula would stop getting into trouble on campus, or if his father was even remotely interested in his children’s lives. He presses a finger to the name on his wrist, drawing comfort from the hope that his soulmate- whoever they are- will help him be a better person than Ozai is.

One more semester, Zuko promises himself, not raising his eyes from the cracked sidewalk covered by the occasional scrap of trash. One more semester and he’ll be out of here. He won’t have to work at the tea shop, won’t have to deal with Azula’s temper tantrums, and won’t have to feel like he’s breaking his uncle’s heart with his plans to leave.

When his shoulder bumps someone else’s, he raises his head to apologize. The words are stolen from him for a moment, by a pair of brilliant blue eyes that crinkle at the corners in a smile.

“Uh, sorry,” He coughs, and she laughs. It’s a nice laugh, he thinks dumbly, a nice laugh that makes him forget about Azula for a heartbeat. But then his worries come rushing back, and damn it all, he’s now officially late to work. He steps around her, careful to keep his gaze up, and sees the line of children trailing behind her. A few are talking quietly, others are kicking at trash, and one is picking a dandelion from the sidewalk. The boy at the end of the line watches him with large eyes, and Zuko tries to smile. He doesn’t flinch in fear, so Zuko considers the attempt a success.

“Sorry again,” He calls out, already speed walking away.

“It’s alright,” she says, and her voice is as nice as her laugh- she laughs again, and Zuko can hear the little train continue on its way. It’s too bad he didn’t get her name, but perhaps they will see each other again and he can ask then.

Then a child yells out, loud enough that Zuko can still hear her nearly half a block away, “Miss Katara, I picked you a flower!”

He freezes mid-step and looks at his wrist. No way. He doesn’t need to lift up the end of his sleeve to know, but he does it anyway, and sees the familiar six letters staring back.

Zuko whips around, head twisting to catch a glimpse of her hair- it was brown, right?- but there’s no one in sight. Damn it. How did he literally manage to let his soulmate walk away from him? Azula will never let him hear the end of it once she finds out.

He pulls his phone out and checks the time. Shit. He is so late to work. And if a tear or two leaks from his eyes, it’s from the wind in his face.

*

Zuko doesn’t see her again until his thirtieth birthday. He is visiting Uncle Iroh for the holidays, and helping out around the tea shop. Zuko can’t believe that eight years ago he wanted to escape this place so badly; everything is much simpler when the only thing you have to worry about is steeping the tea correctly. And everything seems easier with his uncle there to support him.

It was a hard decision to move away after letting Katara get away from him, but he figured at the time that if it was meant to be it would happen regardless of their ages.

So Zuko is more than a little surprised and definitely heartbroken when he approaches table nine for their orders only to see Katara with a happy, gray-eyed man. They’re talking quietly from across the table, and as his get closer he can see why- seated between them is a toddler with the man’s eyes and Katara’s skin.

He tries to ignore the spike of pain in his chest as he asks what they would like. Katara glances at him, but there is no recognition in her eyes. Zuko supposes eight years is a long time, even when his scar is as conspicuous as it is. They order, and when he glances down to collect their menus he wishes he hadn’t.

There, proudly displayed for all to see, is Katara’s name on the man’s wrist. He can’t see her mark- it’s covered with a leather bracelet- but he doesn’t want to. He’s not sure he can handle it. But Zuko does see the wedding ring on her finger.

When he rushes past Uncle Iroh at the register on his way to the kitchen, the man places a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Zuko?” His uncle’s smooth, familiar voice soothes him some, but it can’t fully dislodge the anguish crushing his ribcage. Zuko nods, then shakes his head, then discreetly motions in Katara’s direction.

“I can’t serve her, Uncle.”

Iroh takes one look in the direction of table nine, and a soft sort of understanding fills his eyes. Zuko had only told him the basics, but clearly he knows enough to put the pieces together. 

“Okay,” he says, “I will take over for you.”

He watches as Uncle heaves himself from his chair and makes his way to table nine.

Faintly, as he flips through his notepad, he can hear his uncle greet them. “Hello, I am Iroh and I will be your replacement server. My apologies, but my nephew Zuko is feeling unwell-“

Zuko hears a crash and his uncle’s concerned voice as he steps through the swinging doors into the kitchen. He makes their tea, careful not to over-steep it, and then takes his break. He curls up in an old supply closet that is rarely used and scrubs at the skin of his wrist. He knows that this can happen, sometimes, but he didn’t think it would ever happen to him.

He scrubs as his wrist and doesn’t make a sound until his uncle finds him, and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. Iroh doesn’t speak a word, only sits with him as Zuko tries and fails not to cry.

*

Zuko is seventy-eight and in town to visit Iroh’s grave when he sees her again.

He picks his way through the headstones of the cemetery until he comes to Iroh’s, settled between Lu Ten’s and his wife’s. Off to one side are Ozai and Zuko’s mother, and on the other is Azula’s. Zuko is the only one left, and though it’s been years since Azula passed, leaving him with an empty house and an empty heart, he still feels an aching loneliness.

He moves to leave and that’s when he sees a head of curly graying hair, kneeling before a modest tombstone merely one row over. There is a woman with her, a woman with a dark complexion and darker hair, and Zuko supposes she is the child he saw, all those years ago.

He lingers, not wishing to intrude but desperate for one final look at her face. He does not know why she is there or who she is mourning, but it is not his place to interrupt. He has no place in Katara’s life, and that won’t change even now.

Zuko is caught off guard when she rises with the help of her daughter, too entrenched in his thoughts to have expected it. He is surprised when she turns around and sees him and her eyes widen. And he is dumbfounded when she smiles and says, “Zuko?”

The woman with her looks at Zuko for a moment before whispering something to her mother and leaving. Zuko finds he can’t tear his eyes from Katara. She remembered his name.

He glanced at his wrist. Or maybe…

“Katara?”

She laughs, and it’s nearly the same as it was over fifty years ago. She makes her way over to him and sighs when she sees his uncle’s name.

“He was a good friend,” Katara whispers, “I miss him.” Zuko wants to say that he missed him too, more than he can bear sometimes, but he finds that he’s speechless because Katara has just slipped her hand around his. He looks down at her and she looks up, and they both smile.

“We have a lot to talk about, I think,” She says, and he is only capable of nodding. A soothing warmth fills him, similar to his Uncle’s favorite tea, or the sound of Iroh’s voice.

Zuko can admit that he cried, but only a little.


	2. Vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A period of keeping awake during the time usually spent asleep, especially to keep watch or pray]

The servants of the Fire Lord and his family are trained to blend into the palace, to be less conspicuous than the furniture. Masaru is very good at his job.

So when he stays in the room after helping his fellow servants carry Prince Zuko- the soon to be Fire Lord, he supposes- to his chambers, it comes as little surprise to him that he is not noticed. Even the waterbender ignores him, focused as she is on healing his new leader. He observes how gentle her hands are, how protective she is of her patient.

She would not take kindly to him being here, if she knew.

But still he stays, because Prince Zuko will soon be the ruler of an entire nation, and Masaru has no idea who the waterbender is. And there are people in this palace willing to hurt either- or both- of them, and he cannot allow that to happen.

The waterbender ties her hair back before encasing her hands in water that glows blue. She labors over the prince’s chest. She cries. Masaru wonders who she is, and who the prince is to her for there to be such grief lining her mouth.

Eventually there is nothing for her to do but sit and wait. She keeps watch over Prince Zuko and Masaru keeps watch over the both of them.

Minutes turn into hours, but the waterbender never makes a sound. For the most part Masaru stares at the wall across from him, bare of the normal adornments found in royal quarters. Is it because Prince Zuko took them with him during his banishment, or did Fire Lord Ozai have something to do with it?

The fire burns low, but he doesn’t dare attempt to light it again, even after the waterbender falls into an uneasy sleep next to the prince’s bed.

Masaru starts when a voice breaks the spell the silence had cast upon him.

“Katara.”

She is awake in an instant and leaning over Prince Zuko, glowing water encasing her hand. Her patient waves it away, and when she doesn’t listen he sighs.

“Katara,” Prince Zuko says again, and Masaru does not miss the tender way he says the waterbender’s name. “I’m fine. But-” he stutters and tries to sit up. Katara appears torn for a moment before helping him. “But are you alright?”

She laughs and smiles and perches herself on the edge of the bed. “Yes. Thank you, again, Zuko. No really, I would be dead without you.”

The prince flinches. “Don’t say that.” They grow quiet. Katara fiddles the pendant around her neck. “Has my sister been taken care of?”

Katara’s fiddling increases. “I don’t know. I came straight here when the men told me where they were taking you.”

Prince Zuko only gives her a soft smile. Masaru could step forward and inform them of what he knows- Ryuu and the others were going to try and sedate the princess before securing her in a cell- but his interruption and presence would not be welcome, so he stays motionless. That is a conversation for another time. Tomorrow, perhaps.

Prince Zuko coughs into his fist. “Katara, I want you to know-”

The waterbender does something then that Masaru gawks at: she lays her hand on the prince’s face, right above the scar. He remembers how the young man got it, all those years ago. He had been there.

But Prince Zuko does not turn away as he should, if it truly marks his dishonor. What did he experience during his time of banishment, to accept such a touch so willingly? Masaru shakes his head. The prince stares at this girl- this waterbender who should be his enemy- as if she is the only thing he sees; much happened in the past three years.

The two stay like that, suspended in each other’s gazes, for a moment longer, before Prince Zuko reaches out and draws her face to his.

Masaru looks back to the wall. He has been present for more compromising situations in the past, but it doesn’t mean he has to intrude more so than he already is.

From the corner of his eye he can see how still Katara is. Two heartbeats pass before she pulls away. Prince Zuko says nothing, only studies her.

“Zuko, what if I told you I don’t want to kiss you?”

He sees the moment Prince Zuko understands her words and she understands her mistake. Ah, to be young and foolish and terrible at wording things.

They both freeze, and the prince finally turns away. The waterbender squeezes her eyes closed and trembles minutely.

“Zuko-“

“No, I understand.” His voice is harsh, and too loud for the silence that permeates the rest of the room. “Thank you for your help, Katara, but I would like to be alone now. We both need our sleep.”

He attempts to lie down on his own, but his arms are too weak to maneuver the weight of his body. The crown prince of the Fire Nation ends up halfway between sitting and lying, and despite the numerous pillows the position seems quite uncomfortable. He looks like he’s even pouting, but Masaru can’t be sure.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, that isn’t what I meant.” Prince Zuko doesn’t acknowledge her and she groans. “Zuko, will you please just listen to me?”

Tears make her words catch like unsanded wood, and though her companion does not turn back, the tension in his shoulders ease some.

“I- that was badly put.” The prince snorts in agreement and she frowns. “What I meant was, I don’t want to kiss anyone.”

The young man looks at her then, confusion and curiosity twisting his brow.

Katara lets her chin drop and stares at her hands, both of which now rest in her lap. “I thought, when Aang kissed me, it was just because he’s more like a brother than anything. And with Jet, I didn’t feel anything other than satisfaction for proving Sokka wrong. But Zuko-” she looks up, and her face is open and distraught. “I don’t feel anything. I think… what if- am I broken?”

Her voice cracks. The prince stretches out and slowly pulls her into a loose hug. The waterbender remains still for a moment, then crushes their bodies together and cries into his shirt.

“Shh, Katara, it’s alright,” Prince Zuko says. He strokes the top of her head and rocks them back and forth. “You’re not broken, I swear. My uncle talked to me about something similar once.” She quiets, and draws back far enough to peer at him through swollen eyes. One of his hands falls to the bed. “He told me some people don’t feel the same urges as everyone else, but that’s okay. That they’re just as much of a person, regardless.” He breathes out a laugh. “I think he was trying to reassure me at the time, but now I’m glad he did.”

“But, shouldn’t I want this? I think I love you, Zuko. Shouldn’t that include everything that goes with it?”

His hand tightens on the blankets pooled around his waist and he smiles. “Katara, I- I love you too.” The other hand cups her cheek briefly before sliding to her elbow. “I fell in love with you without kissing you and I will continue to love you without it. I only need you.”

She smiles back and gathers his hands in hers. They sit like that for a time, not the ruler of a nation and an unknown waterbender, but simply a boy and a girl in love. 

The confessions strike Masaru. He has always thought that love required extravagant proclamations and deeds. But these two children show him that he was wrong- love can be soft and small, so small it can fit in entwined hands or closed eyes.

“But- well, can I ask a question?” Masaru wants to laugh at the boy’s inelegance, but she nods. “I’ve seen how you are with Aang, and even Toph and Sokka. Don’t you eventually want kids?”

Katara contemplates the question for nearly a minute. She shrugs. “With the war, there are plenty of orphans in need of loving homes. And it’s not like I’m disgusted by the thought of sex, I just don’t find it appealing. Or necessary. So maybe kids could be a possibility someday.”

They are both blushing, but the awkwardness soon gives way to comfortable silence. The fire is nearly extinguished, so the prince lights the candles on his bedside. Katara helps him to lie down once more. Their hands stay clasped.

An hour passes before they are both asleep. Masaru sighs and rubs his lower back. He is getting too old to be carrying around mostly grown princes and standing in corners all night, but he stays. Who knows what kind of trouble will find these two when left unprotected.

He leans back against the cool stone and enjoys its temporary relief. He checks on the sleeping teens, smiles when he sees their interlaced hands, and wonders how the Fire Nation will react to having adopted heirs.

They will learn to accept it, and if they don’t- though Masaru knows the voice of one servant is likely to be lost in the sea of opinions- he will support Fire Lord Zuko. He will call Katara Lady and treat her with the respect she deserves. He will make sure others- as many as he can manage- do the same.

Satisfied, he resumes staring at the wall across from him and prepares himself for a long night. Someone has to keep watch, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have read! I'll be posting name meanings and such over on my tumblr each day (link on profile).
> 
> And yes, Katara is asexual. No ifs ands or buts.
> 
> Skats


	3. Clandestine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kept secret or done secretly; illicit]
> 
> This one is something of a monster, and while it's an OC POV and Katara-centric, there is Zutara. It's just... clandestine...

Kamizu had seen a lot during her time as a healer in the Hundred Year War. Love, heartbreak, and betrayal were integral parts of battle, no matter how men tried to deny it. She knew the symptoms of a broken heart as well as any illness, could identify a widow as easily as a broken bone. And yet nothing had quite prepared her for the despair she found in her sister tribe.

She had been hesitant at first to agree to travel to the south. From what the warriors had whispered, it was little more than a desolate wasteland, especially when compared to the glory of the northern capital. But Yugoda had pulled her aside, merely days before Master Pakku was scheduled to leave for the third and final time, and told her the story of a woman desperately trying to hold her tribe together. Kamizu remembered young Katara's daring, several years before. The entire city did. But she listened with wide eyes as Yugoda explains just how large of a part the girl had played in the ending of the war.

"And now her father is sick, possibly dying," Yugoda had whispered. "Katara cannot heal him, despite her immense skill. Hakoda has been preparing her to become chief for several years, but Kanna says she is not ready."

Kamizu had looked at her mentor then. Yugoda would have been the obvious choice, as she already knew both Kanna and Katara. But Kamizu had forced herself to notice the tiny signs of age she had previously ignored. Yugoda's hands were no longer as steady, and her skin was wrinkled with age. She likely would not survive the long, arduous journey to the Southern Water Tribe unscathed. And Katara, if Yugoda was to be believed, needed not only a healer and female advisor, but also something of a mother. Kamizu had been unsure if she could ever fill that role for the young woman, but she would try, if only for her dear friend who had stood before her.

She had nodded, and would never forget the way Yugoda had smiled.

*

The company arrived at the Southern Water Tribe on the first day of spring, and was not greeted by the chief, his daughter, or even his mother. Instead, a young man with an ill-fitted parka stood at the end of the icy dock just constructed by Master Pakku, his head bowed low. He looked up as they descended toward him, and his golden eyes, one scarred nearly beyond saving, made Kamizu's breath catch. This man was a firebender, and if her memory served her correctly, he was the Fire Lord. What was he doing in the far south?

Fire Lord Zuko clasped his hands in the traditional water tribe greeting and bowed at the waist as Master Pakku came to stand before him. Kamizu was trapped at the rear of the group and could only see Master Pakku's back, but his shoulders were rigid. He did not bow in return.

"What brings you here, Lord Zuko?"

Fire Lord Zuko stood straight once more but did not answer immediately. His eyes swept across the people gathered behind Master Pakku, and he seemed to meet the gaze of everyone assembled. He turned back to Master Pakku.

"Chief Hakoda passed away in the late hours of last night," Fire Lord Zuko said, and many of Kamizu's companions gasped. She grimaced, regretting that she had not been there to ease his- or at least his daughter's- pain. "Chief Katara is a dear friend of mine, and I wished to lend my support- and the support of the Fire Nation- to her and her tribe during this difficult time."

Kamizu nodded her head in agreement, but Master Pakku didn't move. She imagined that he was scrutinizing the young man before him, trying to find fault. Besides the clothes that clearly did not belong to him, she could not see one.

After several moments, Master Pakku also nodded. "Lead the way, Lord Zuko. I wish to see my student."

Fire Lord Zuko pivoted on his heel and began the short trek back to the village, but he didn't make it two steps before Master Pakku spoke again.

"Wait." The man turned around and searched the crowd until he found her. "Mistress Kamizu, it is my understanding that Master Yugoda chose you specifically, did she not?" Kamizu gave a tiny nod. "Very well. I would like you to join us."

She dipped her chin and wove through the small crowd to fall in step behind them as the two men set off toward the only remaining village of the Southern Water Tribe.

Within minutes they reached the outer wall, which was cleverly disguised as large snowbanks. She only recognized it as such after Fire Lord Zuko pointed out the hidden opening, made so people could come and go without needing a bender to remove large sections of the defenses. It was different than the north, but she imagined that was unavoidable. When they slipped through the crack, her eyes went wide.

Everything was made of snow.

The three of them stood at the end of a wide street that went straight through the entire village, and the only structure made of ice was a half formed statue that stood beside the communal fire. The statue had the strong, square shoulders of a soldier, and though its face had yet to be constructed, she had an idea as to who it was meant to be.

As they continued forward, Kamizu marveled at the snow-packed road and igloos that did not shine brightly but somehow reflected the light even more fiercely than the ice of her homeland. It wasn't until she nearly bumped into the back of the Fire Lord that she pulled her gaze back to her immediate surroundings.

The three of them stood before the door of a rather unassuming igloo, in her opinion, especially if it belonged to the chief. But perhaps, she mused as they passed through the curtain, more than just architecture was different here. Their new chief was female, after all. That would never happen in the north.

Kamizu's eyes quickly adjusted to the darker interior of the igloo, and she watched as Master Pakku went and joined an elderly woman who was seated by the wall. Surely she was Kanna, but before Kamizu could investigate further her attention was drawn to the other side of the small house.

There, half hidden by a drooping tiger-seal skin curtain, knelt the young chief of the Southern Water Tribe. And just beyond her laid the body of Chief Hakoda.

Kamizu brushed off her sense of wonder at this strange little village and turned to Kanna. There was work to be done.

She gestured to Chief Katara and inclined her head in respectful deference. Kanna's brow knit together and she glanced to Master Pakku. His sharp gaze came to rest on Kamizu and she communicated her request in a flurry of hand gestures. When she finished he looked to his wife.

"Mistress Kamizu would like to request permission to aid Chief Katara in the preparations of Chief Hakoda's body. I believe she is well versed in the practices of the northern tribe and will not take much time to adjust to any differences in customs."

This time, it was Kanna and Zuko's gazes that found her.

"She cannot speak, which is why I speak for her," He raised an eyebrow at her, "I do believe she and Yugoda developed the system of signs you just witnessed. Perhaps she will be willing to teach a few people at some point, so I am not required every time she wishes to communicate." She huffed, and signed that she indeed knew how to write. Master Pakku elected to ignore her, but the other two stared. Zuko- she couldn't call him the Fire Lord when he looked like that- was dumbfounded, and Kanna appraised her. She had long ago grown used to people's curiosity at her inability to speak, but perhaps once Kanna learned some of her language they could talk about Yugoda together. And after a long moment, Kanna agreed to her request, her voice hoarse with tears.

Kamizu picked her way through the sparse furniture. Behind her, she heard Zuko, lord of an entire nation and nearing twenty-five years of age, manage to sound like an awkward teenager as he asked, "You could understand that? Why didn't she talk?"

Master Pakku's exasperated sigh floated to her before she let the tiger-seal skin drop into place behind her. Chief Katara's attention remained on her father until Kamizu settled on the ground by her side. Slowly, the young woman turned her head and blinked at her. Kamizu smiled sadly, before motioning to the great man resting on the furs by their knees.

Chief Katara blinked at her again, confusion written into the twist of her brow and the tightness of her lips. Kamizu sighed- a small thing, no larger than an exhale of air through her nose, but one she felt deep in her chest- and motioned to her throat. She sketched two figures into the snow- can't speak- and waited until Chief Katara read it. As she smoothed it out, the young woman drew up a small amount of water and it began to glow.

"Would you like me to heal you?"

She gazed at Chief Katara- young enough to truly be her daughter. Grief shone in her eyes for her father lying at her side, and yet she had the compassion to try and heal a complete stranger. Kamizu felt something soften in her at the sight, and she swore once more to help her in any way she could; this time not for Yugoda, but for Katara herself.

With a shake of her head, she liquefied the snow under her hand and sent it swirling between them. With barely a thought she reached into the part of her bending that held her healing, and the water glowed blue.

Comprehension smoothed some of the frown from Chief Katara's face. "You're here to help me?"

Kamizu nodded, and a strange peace settled in Katara's eyes before a sob wrenched itself from her. She dropped into Kamizu's lap, and it was all she could do to stroke the girl's unbound hair as she cried for her father, the only parent she'd had for so long.

After a time, Katara uttered one final word- "Dad" –before her tears subsided. She pulled herself into a sitting position, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and nodded resolutely.

She didn't speak again as they readied her father- Chief Hakoda of the once grand Southern Water Tribe- for burial, but Kamizu didn't miss the way Katara subtly inched closer to her throughout the day.

*

As the years passed, Kamizu adjusted to the south better than she could have expected. The snow grew on her, and after the first few months she truly never found herself missing the majestic, soaring ice structures of the north. The southerners accepted her as they did all who chose to settle within their walls, and many even learned the basics of her sign language so she could communicate without the aid of Katara or Master Pakku. It was a small kindness, but one few of her kin from the north had thought of.

Katara had indeed grown into a fine chief, as they had all known she would. The girl- truly, she was a woman, but Kamizu couldn't shake the habit- was patient and kind to all she spoke to, and made judgments justly. The people of the Southern Water Tribe- and even those from beyond who heard of her- held Chief Katara in the highest regard.

Kamizu, personally, couldn't have been prouder. Katara occasionally withdrew from her, and though it always stung, she understood. No matter what she did, she would never replace the parents Katara had lost. But as time wore on, she earned her own place in Katara's closely guarded heart.

On the eve of her twenty-sixth birthday, Katara approached Kamizu as she sat by the entrance of her home. Her focus did not shift from the clothes she was mending as Katara settled beside her; instead, she rethreaded her needle and waited for the girl to speak.

"I would like to ask you to move into my home."

Kamizu froze and so did Katara. She stuttered for a moment before trying to elaborate, "It just makes more sense! Then I have my closest advisor and friend nearby whenever I need her. And- and- until we have the power to expand the village again we need all the igloos we can manage. It just makes more sense if we live together to conserve space. You don't have to-"

Kamizu grabbed her mid-sentence and squeezed so hard Katara spluttered. But she only stroked the younger woman's unbound hair and tried not to sniff too loudly. She may not be a replacement for Kya, but it seemed Katara had chosen to keep her in her life.

*

In the time between Kamizu's fiftieth birthday and Katara's twenty-eighth, Katara received a letter that left her frowning for nearly a week afterward. Kamizu tried not to pry, and the one time she asked only served to deepen the lines around her friend's mouth.

"It is a proposition from Lord Zuko, as we seem to have a mutual problem," Her eyes grew far away, and

Kamizu knew it was a time the chief wished she had a family member to confide in. With Kanna's passing the previous winter, Katara was left kinless, save for Pakku and Sokka, the former of which was too entrenched in his grief and the latter too far away to be a comfort. "It is not something to be taken lightly."

In the end, after a month of consideration, Chief Katara boarded a ship bound for the Fire Nation, naming Kamizu acting regent in her stead. Before she left, her friend held her hands and her gaze equally tight.

"Do not doubt yourself, my dear friend. There is strength within you, strength that I will need when I return."

Kamizu gave a firm nod and reaffirmed her promise. She would help Katara, as a chief and a woman. She would not fail this task set before her, six years earlier.

When Katara returned six months later, pregnant and somber with a new, quiet grief, Kamizu asked no questions, only stroked her hair and fetched anything her friend requested.

*

They never spoke of the matter, at least not directly. People whispered, as they were bound to, but if it bothered Katara she never let anyone know.

Master Pakku passed away in his sleep during Katara's eighth month, if Kamizu's estimations were correct. In her opinion, between that sadness and the disappointed letter she received from her brother on Kyoshi Island- in addition to the normal stress of leading an entire tribe- premature labor was inevitable.

Both of them had assisted in many births during their time as healers, and Kamizu was the only one present when Katara cried her way through the contractions and screamed each time she was urged to push. Kamizu eased her through it, but only so much could be done: her healing was not meant to circumvent Tui's natural order.

After, Kamizu watched as Katara lay clutching her daughter to her breast, sweat making her hair cling to her face and neck. Her eyes were shining with the joy of motherhood, as Kamizu had seen many times, but her mouth was still lined with an unshakeable sadness.

It was not particularly surprising when the infant had light, amber eyes, nor when Katara named her Iqniq after the bright, uncommon comets seen only in the dark winter months.

*

Years flew by, quicker than any Kamizu had previously experienced. Iqniq was an intelligent little girl who was curious about everything, but showed no signs of being a bender. Katara did not react one way or another, but Kamizu was secretly relieved. People talked enough as it was.

And people did talk. Mostly it was just harmless gossip that were as simple as Katara had forgotten to take measures against pregnancy after a night of pleasure during her travels. Others, however, were more malicious, and, if Kamizu's suspicions correct, closer to the truth.

One day, coming back from healing a sick child on the outskirts of the village, Kamizu stumbled across a scene that made her heart falter.

Katara stood in the shadows of an igloo, her face cold and her eyes ice as she watched two men spar. Normally, that would cause Kamizu to be confused but not concerned, but she recognized the two. One had been one of her companions, all those years before, by the name of Arrluk. She recalled little of him besides his bigoted nature and usually disastrous habit of speaking his mind.

The other was young, a new immigrant from the north. He had the unfortunate name Mangokpok, which had prompted many jokes upon his arrival about his parents' taste in both names and weather. He also did not think before talking; if she remembered correctly, he had been shocked and more than slightly appalled when he had finally realized that the chief of the south was a woman.

Still, Kamizu couldn't understand the source of Katara's fury until she heard Mangokpok say gold-eyed bastard child. She gasped just as Katara leapt forward, a furious wave of liquefied snow building behind her. With a sudden jerk of her arm the two men were encased in ice up to their necks. Katara's foot slide back. She twisted one hand behind her and raised dozens of needle thin ice daggers. They flew forward until they rested inches from Arrluk and Mangokpok's heads and throats.

In all her years as Katara's confidante, Kamizu had only seen such a powerful display of bending from her once, and that had been the day they gave Hakoda's body back to La. She had not abandoned her bending, as far as Kamizu knew, but had merely reserved her practices as time to be alone.

"If I ever hear you- or anyone else- say something like that about my daughter, I will personally escort them to the next departing ship. Am I understood?"

The two nodded, eyes wide as they stared at what could have been their deaths, floating harmlessly for the moment.

Katara narrowed her eyes and dropped the icicles, but Kamizu knew they would never forget and Katara would never forgive.

*

On the first day of spring, twelve years to the day of her arrival in the Southern Water Tribe and less than a fortnight after Iqniq's fifth birthday, Kamizu once again watched her chief and friend board a small wooden ship, a letter held in her hand. Rarely did Katara wear the formal attire of her position when she attended to her day-to-day responsibilities, but she had donned her ceremonial furs and imported silks early that morning. Kamizu had assisted, still half asleep, and taken over when Katara's hands shook too much to braid the cobalt beads into her hair that had once belonged to her father.

Iqniq was still asleep in their small home, but she knew that her mother was leaving for a time, and that Kamizu would take care of her in Katara's stead. Iqniq had studied them with her large, light eyes and solemnly said, "Don't worry, mama, I will make sure Kami does okay." The two had laughed together, and then cried, not wishing to be parted again seemingly so soon.

Yet Kamizu watched and only waved as the ship left the harbor, though her heart ached and she wished, for the first time in many years, that she was able to speak, if merely to call out one final farewell. She searched for the boat long after its sails were swallowed by the horizon and tried to quiet the storm howling inside her.

*

Avatar Aang visited five months later. He was not what Kamizu expected, from what she remembered of the laughing boy who saved the northern capital so many years ago. The mirth had been drained from his gray eyes, and replaced with a sadness similar to the one that haunted Katara's smile.

The Avatar asked for an audience with the leader of the south. When someone informed him on Kamizu's behalf that Chief Katara was currently away on personal business, he let off a stream of curse words that had her covering Iqniq's young ears. He apologized immediately. When he glanced down to the child at her side, every visible muscle in his body stiffened. He stared for a long moment, and Iqniq stared back, her light eyes full of questions about this strange, serious man.

Kamizu tried not to sigh. Turning to the person next to her, she signed with fingers fluid from both signing and waterbending, tell him this is Iqniq, daughter of Katara, heir-chief of the Southern Water Tribe.

Avatar Aang did not break eye contact with his old companion's child, and though Kamizu did not know the full history between him and her friend, she thought she understood the way his eyes seemed to shine for a heartbeat in the afternoon sun. He blinked and the moment passed.

Later, after he and his sky bison had left, Iqniq sat her down by their table. Kamizu tried not to appear too amused.

"Who was he?" Her voice was high but serious. She didn't know many of the words to Kamizu's language, but Iqniq knew the letters and how to spell, so Kamizu slowly explained how Avatar Aang had once saved the world, with the help of her mother and uncle.

"Why have I never met Uncle Sokka?"

Kamizu sighed. He lives far away and has his own family. His wife is chief, like your mama is, and she can't leave her people.

And then came the question she had been expecting but not anticipating.

"So, if she can't leave, why can Mama?"

Kamizu did sigh then, and cursed Fire Lord Zuko for ever sending Katara that letter. She gathered the young girl in her arms and rocked her as she cried. She stroked her chestnut hair and tried not to weep.

*

Katara never wrote, and when the one year mark approached Kamizu grew concerned. She knew well enough how to lead the tribe successfully, thanks to her years by Katara's side and the last time she had acted as regent, but the people were not as satisfied answering to her as chief. She understood and even agreed, most of the time.

But occasionally she found that she was glad to be in Katara's place, if only so her dear friend didn't have to hear the gossip that she would not- could not- outwardly react to.

In the past year, Kamizu had learned to be loud in ways she had never before considered. When the whispers started she stood, forcing everyone's attention to her. She disciplined the older children who picked on Iqniq with chores and her silent, watchful presence. When a particularly nasty rumor made its way to her, she called a private meeting with the originator.

She began to manipulate her bending to do more than heal and became ferocious with her feet, sending frost and rain and ice at anyone who dared to speak ill of Katara or her daughter. She thought Master Pakku might have been proud, if he were to witness it. Kanna and Yugoda certainly would.

If anything was said in Iqniq's presence, she made what Chief Katara would do look tame. She was not cruel, and never unjust, but they simply did not respect her the way they respected Chief Katara.

When Katara returned, nearly a year and a half after she left, she was not pregnant. But there was another, new type of grief in her gaze that made Kamizu feel as though her heart had been scooped from her chest. Sometimes she would cry a name- Kaito- in her sleep, and though they were both heartbroken for completely different reasons, Kamizu believed she understood.

And even when Katara was again in the south, turned inside out by anguish, Kamizu continued to make it clear that speaking about their chief in such a way would not be tolerated.

*

She did not see Fire Lord Zuko once more until Iqniq was fully grown, the white outnumbered the brown in Katara's unbound hair, and Kamizu was officially the oldest member of the Southern Water Tribe.

She and Katara sat together, in the same igloo where they first met, when he arrived.

A knock echoed through the small space, and when Katara called out a greeting a tall man with gray hair, golden eyes, and a scar stooped through their doorway. Beside her Katara stilled, like a drop of water held above a bender's fingertip.

"Katara," He said, voice still as raspy as it was when they were all so foolishly young. He looked to her. "Kamizu," and signed something that didn't make sense and certainly wasn't suitable for proper company. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow and he blushed. "My… apologies. Katara taught me a few words, but it has obviously been too long."

Finally Katara moved. Her shoulders slumped minutely, but it started a tremble in her hands that didn't stop even when Kamizu covered them with her own.

"Zuko," Katara exhaled his name as a sigh, and his golden eyes closed briefly. "Is-" she took a breath and began to shake even more. "Is Kaito here?" Katara paused and dropped her chin. Then she raised it again, and there was a fierce hope on her face. "Does he still have blue eyes?"

Kamizu stilled at that. When Zuko nodded and Katara wrenched her hands from under Kamizu's to fall on him, already crying silent tears, she allowed her eyes to shut for a moment. A blue eyed boy and a girl with eyes the color of the midnight sun, and two broken, mending hearts. She had been right all along.

"He's outside still, speaking to Iqniq." Katara keened, a tiny noise that pulled on something deep in Kamizu's chest. She opened her eyes and met Zuko's, and saw a familiar sorrow resting in his gaze as his arms closed around Katara's shoulder.

Katara had endured so much to finally reach this moment of reconciliation, and though Kamizu desperately wanted to finally meet the missing piece of her dear, dear friend's heart, she was content to sit and watch a reunion that was long overdue, a warm glow in her chest that she hadn't truly felt in many, many years. Finally, the sorrow of the south was slipping away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, name meanings are on my tumblr if anyone is curious. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Skats


	4. Rue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rue
> 
> [Bitterly regret (something one has done or allowed to happen)]
> 
> Warnings for non-graphic rape/non-con. Implied, but proceed accordingly.

Prince Zuko watched the girl in blue and man in orange run across the ice to the village.

He had found the Avatar.

He moved to put the spyglass away when an unusual glint caught his attention. Zuko refocused the device and watched in amazement as a clump of snow hovered on its own behind the pair. The Avatar seemed unaware of its presence, but the girl shot her arm forward. The snow followed the motion and hit the man in the back of the head.

Zuko’s mouth went slack and his eyes widened. Not only had he located the Avatar, but also a waterbender?

But no, he shook his head. The last southern waterbender had been killed five years ago.

Unless…

His shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked together. Zuko squared his shoulders.

“Tell my uncle I found the Avatar, and the actual last waterbender.”

When his father found out, he would be pleased.

*

After his ship shuddered to a stop and Zuko dealt with the pathetic peasant boy, he saw the girl. He knew she was the one he was looking for, despite the village consisting only of women and children. She had the same coat.

The waterbender stood next to an old woman. He stared at her for a moment, but she didn’t attack. Fear gave her eyes an extra sheen.

Zuko turned away in disgust. The last waterbender was nothing more than a scared girl. No wonder their tribe was so decimated; it all waterbenders were like this, it was a wonder the North had yet to cave.

He stalked in front of them.

“Where is the Avatar?”

No one stepped forward. Zuko watched them all carefully as he explained who he was searching for. There was no spark of recognition in any of their eyes. He ground his teeth together and moved on to part two.

Zuko lunged and grabbed the waterbender by the collar. Before any of the villagers moved, he crushed her back to his chest and created a fireball.

The old woman gasped and the boy behind him yelled, “Katara!”

At his command, Zuko’s men took care of the boy quickly, as he had no real skill. The waterbender began to cry. Zuko frowned. Based on his appearance, the boy had been her brother. At least she hadn’t actually seen him die.

Zuko wondered how Azula would react to witnessing his death. She’d probably laugh.

A rushing sound jolted him from his thoughts and he looked up. The Avatar- it had to be him, the clothes were identical- slid into the village on the back of a penguin.

But… he was only a boy.

Zuko’s brow furrowed in confusion. How could that be? The Avatar should’ve been over one hundred years old!

He felt uncomfortable, for a moment, knowing that he would bring a child before his father to be executed. He remembered then that the waterbender he threatened and her brother- lying dead behind them- were also children.

“Let her go!” The Avatar yelled. He settled into a bending stance, staff held at the ready.

Zuko held the fireball closer to the waterbender’s face.

“Surrender Avatar, or I’ll kill her.”

The girl whimpered and the Avatar’s eyes widened naively.

“If I go with you, do you promise to let Katara go?”

Zuko nodded. He wondered what effected his honor more: lying to the Avatar, or fulfilling the quest his father had laid before him.

He shook off the thought. Of course it meant more to do what his father asked of him!

But as he studied the Avatar’s large, young eyes as the boy handed his staff to one of Zuko’s men, he wondered if this truly was the right course of action.

Once his soldiers had apprehended the Avatar- Zuko’s one chance at being welcomed home once more- he turned, waterbender still in his clutches.

“Get him on the ship,” he said. “I’m going home.”

The old woman cried out and the waterbender struggled, but Zuko was stronger. In a matter of minutes he had them stowed away on the brig.

Zuko stood at the bow of his ship, eagerly awaiting the sight of the Fire Nation after three years of exile, and avoided Iroh’s disappointed gaze.

*

He was not present for the Avatar’s exocution. Azula had been, and she was the only reason he even knew it had happened.

Zuko stormed into his room and threw pieces of his armor as he ripped them off. They clanged as they fell, but he didn’t glance to check that they were undented.

How dare his father not tell him- Zuko, the only reason he even had the Avatar in the first place?

He yelled. Flames shot from his mouth and a tapestry caught fire, but he didn’t care. Everything in this miserable palace could burn, as far as he was concerned.

Zuko had sacrificed three years of his life to search for the one thing that kept the Fire Nation from total victory- and for what? To be shut out of everything as though he was still thirteen-years-old?

He yelled again and punched out a jet of fire. The bed went up in flames. He glared, as if it had caused all of his problems. If only.

Zuko stayed long enough to save a portrait of his mother from being burned before striding from the room. He didn’t understand his motives- if there even were any- as he marched straight from the Royal Plaza to the prison.

It wasn’t until he stood before her cell that Zuko questioned himself. What was he doing here? As if the waterbender could help.

Even if she could, he acknowledged, she wouldn’t.

The trip to the Fire Nation had taken a little over a month, and he had only seen the waterbender when they had arrived in port. She had been angry and dirty, but not underfed.

Now, a mere week later, the girl was gaunt and her skin had an unhealthy pallor. In the dim light of the prison Zuko couldn’t see much of her face through the lank hair that hung loose around her shoulders, so he lit a flame in the palm of his hand.

She flinched. And after his eyes adjusted, Zuko flinched too,.

The waterbender’s hands were chained directly to the wall, her clothes in tatters, and her face…

Much like his own, hers was scarred. Burned. The wound festered still, meaning it was fresh; it started on her right cheek and trailed over her jaw. It ended just above her collarbone.

Zuko twisted away and tried not to vomit. His father had likely burned her, and his father’s men had caused other damages.

Making this indirectly his fault.

She bared her teeth at him, and her eyes were feral. “Finally come for your share, Prince Zuko?”

He was going to be sick.

“Ready to have your time with the barbarian whore?”

Zuko took a step back and raised a hand against her words.

“I can’t believe your nerve!” She spat. “You were the one to capture Aang and you couldn’t even be bothered to attend his murder!”

She was crying. Zuko’s face felt hot with shame.

“They burned him and when I cried they burned me!”

She had been present. This girl had watched her friend die an agonizing death, just weeks after watching her brother die and being ripped from her home.

Zuko snuffed out his palm-fire and ran. Outside, in the bright sunlight, he crouched behind a bush in one of the royal gardens and heaved up his breakfast.

*

He visited her again, a month later.

The waterbender’s body sagged against the wall. She didn’t look up when he approached. This time, Zuko didn’t create any sort of light.

“I didn’t know the Avatar was being executed. No one told me.”

She turned her face away. He sighed and left.

*

It took two more years for the Northern Water Tribe to fall. The Earth Kingdom held out, but barely. It was only a matter of time before they joined the other nations.

Zuko was twenty-one before they discovered the new Avatar, and this time he watched from his father’s left side as benders incinerated a three-year-old.

He threw up near the turtle duck pond and avoided his family for the rest of the day.

*

Zuko had visited the waterbender over the past five years, but she was rarely awake when he snuck in. From what the guards told him, she was rarely awake period. And when she was conscious, he found he could only tolerate her dead eyes for a moment or two at most.

When she was asleep it was a different matter. He often sat in front of the bars of her cell and meditated. He didn’t know what it was, but her presence was calming.

At least it was, until she woke up and stared at him or he looked too closely and caught a glimpse of her scar.

She reminded him of Uncle Iroh in a way, and he clung to that. His uncle had departed from the Fire Nation soon after the decimation of the water tribes and had yet to return. Zuko wished he would. His father was growing restless, now that the Earth Kingdom’s resistance was waning. Azula was worse, always sneaking out of the palace and returning soaked in other people’s blood.

And despite Zuko’s elder status, his father was grooming Azula to become Fire Lord. She wasn’t soft hearted, like he was. She didn’t visit prisoners who were on the brink of death (except to kill them at their father’s request).

Zuko found he didn’t mind like he would’ve, years ago. But it did bother him. The idea of Fire Lord Azula made his blood run cold.

He held his tongue though, not relishing the thought of another scar, and continued to visit the waterbender. He was biding his time, but Zuko had no idea what he was waiting for.

*

In his twenty-sixth year, a young girl named Mitsuko was brought before the Fire Lord’s dais and proclaimed to be the next Avatar. Zuko watched from his father’s left as he leaned forward and smiled.

*

Azula was to be the Avatar’s firebending teacher, despite the fact that she was five-years-old and couldn’t hold a flame steady.

Zuko watched on the sidelines as Azula pushed the girl farther than any child should be forced to go. He thought of Azula as a child. He thought of himself as a child.

Mitsuko cried out, and when he looked back to the training grounds he saw her collapsed in the dirt, Azula looming over her. There was a burn on her forearm and tears in her eyes. Azula frowned in disgust and left. He thought of the waterbender.

Zuko walked to the prison, but when he tried to move past the guards one raised his hand.

“Prince Zuko,” he said, sounding not nearly as terrified as he would have if he had just blocked Azula’s way. “The waterbender has been transferred to the Boiling Rock, as per the Princess’ instructions.”

Zuko stood and stared at the solid metal door for a long time after the two guards returned to their posts.

The waterbender was gone.

He drew on the flame that rested in his heart and channeled it.

Katara was gone. But he was going to fix that.

*

On his twenty-seventh birthday, Zuko gathered the six-year-old Avatar in his arms and fled Caldera City. He cut off his phoenix tail. He was no longer a child of a man who burned his children as lessons, nor a prince of a nation who burned children too young to truly understand.

They made their way to the Boiling Rock, and through a combination of planning and sheer luck, Zuko managed to free Katara.

It wasn’t as difficult as he would have expected, but then again, he hadn’t expected her to be in the infirmary, eyes closed and breaths shallow. It helped in smuggling her out (he pretended she was just another dead body to be disposed of), but she didn’t wake that night. Nor the night after.

Zuko grew desperate. He was traveling in the wilderness, with a child who couldn’t control her bending and a woman who wouldn’t regain consciousness. Katara’s breathing was getting shallower by the day. They needed help. So when he stumbled across a sleazy bar in the middle of nowhere, he cast aside the rest of his pride and entered.

The last person he expected to find was his Uncle Iroh. The man blinked- first at Zuko, then at the woman he cradled in his arms, and finally at the girl clinging to his pants.

“Nephew!”

He laid Katara on the floor as gently as he could, then embraced Iroh and cried.

*

Iroh was part of the rebellion. Zuko had unknowingly brought the Avatar straight to the Fire Nation’s enemies. A sliver of him- the part that was still Ozai’s son- loathed the idea; it wanted to snatch Mitsuko up and run her straight back to the court.

But the rest insisted he stayed, because Katara had woken. A water tribe healer- one of the few waterbenders still free- had told him so this morning.

She had also told him that Katara was blind in her right eye.

“It’s likely from that old burn scar.”

Zuko had turned his face away in shame; all those years he had visited her and never suspected.

When he stepped into her room, she took one look at him and rolled over in her bed.

His hand reached out. “Katara-“

Her body shuddered, and Zuko realized he had never said her name aloud before.

They stayed suspended in silence for an endless amount of time.

“Shila said you were the one who rescued me?” Her voice was hoarse with disuse.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He sucked in a breath. “Azula was abusing Mitsuko, the Avatar. You were gone, Uncle was gone. You have already been abused by the Fire Nation too much. And a lot of it was my fault.”

She didn’t object, only stayed quiet. Zuko wondered if she was waiting for more or ignoring him.

“I wanted to apologize.”

Her shoulders tensed. “One good deed and an apology do not make up for a lifetime of evil. Even if that evil was just standing by and letting something happen.”

He bowed his head to her back. “I wish you luck in your recovery. Farewell.”

Zuko spun on his heel and strode from the room.

He found Iroh later that day and told him he wished to become the Avatar’s firebending teacher. Iroh smiled.

“You’ve come a long way, nephew. I’m so proud of you.”

Zuko thought of Katara’s burned face and trembling arms. How her dress was once in tatters and he only ran. He shook his head.

“I still have a long way to go, Uncle.”

Iroh’s eyes were soft and understanding. “I know, Zuko.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is angst. ;-; This hasn't been proofread, even by myself, nor is it as good as I might like it to be, but I would love to revisit it some day and flesh it out a bit more (you know, when it's not late at night and I'm not half asleep). I feel like it's underdeveloped and rushed, but again, it's nearly midnight here lol.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Skats


	5. Voyage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voyage
> 
> [A long journey, typically by sea or space]
> 
> Cruise ship AU

Katara couldn't say she loved her job as a massage therapist aboard _the World_ \- the largest private residential ship on the planet- but she had to admit the perks were amazing. The staff housing didn't have any windows, but when she woke in the morning and ate breakfast on deck, she could watch the sun rise over whatever city the residents had decided on.

Yes, she had to concede, it wasn't so bad. She and her brother got to see the planet, in exchange for dealing with the residents.

At least, Katara dealt with the residents. Sokka was the engineer and rarely had to interact with them.

She could admit that most were alright- there was a girl a few years younger than Katara named Toph, who was nice enough when she came in for a session, and Ursa, who always smiled- but some of them were unbearable, for one reason or another. Toph's parents were overprotective of their blind daughter, and downright snooty besides. There was an old woman named Hama who came for a deep tissue massage once a month, and Katara spent each appointment dodging weirdly personal questions and offers to visit her room.

And then there was Aang. Katara didn't know his story as to why he was a resident- as far as she could tell he lived alone- but she did know that he was smitten with her. The boy scheduled a massage once a week but spent each session cringing. When Katara was done, Aang would stare at her longingly, until she finished writing in his next time and sent him on his way.

Life aboard _the World_ was comfortable. Having only one hundred sixty-five residential hones meant that new residents rarely moved in, and they were all used to each other- staff included.

So when Sokka burst into her room one morning and yelled, "There's a new family moving in!" She sat upright in bed.

"What?"

"Suki from Enrichment and Entertainment just told me- next time we dock, they're joining _the World!_ "

Katara sat in bed, her hair disheveled and eyes wide. There hadn't been a new resident since she started working here, nearly three years ago. This was huge.

The ship was abuzz with gossip for the next week, as residents and staff alike speculated on what the new family would be like. Rumor was Haru from concierge had met them, but Katara found herself too swamped with clients to ask him herself. Katara shrugged off her curiosity and focused on her job. To be honest she was dying to know, but it could wait.

*

She was with Hama when they docked in Singapore and the new family boarded the World. Her interest was killing her, but she had a session with Ursa next.

Katara liked Ursa; the woman was quiet and kind, and came for a facial once every other month. She had been living on _the World_ for six years before Katara was hired, making her one of the longest residents after Hama.

Appointments with Ursa helped Katara relax, so she scheduled them after Hama's as often as she could. She reminded Katara of her mother, and she often wondered if Ursa had a family out there somewhere.

Sokka was waiting by the desk when they finished. Ursa smiled at him and he waved.

"Katara, have you seen the new kids yet?"

She dug around in the pile on her desk for her calendar and shook her head.

"Does the seventh work for you, two months from now?" Ursa nodded. "Our normal time?"

"Yes dear."

Katara grinned at her.

"Suki and I saw them. There's three girls and a guy, all about our age." Sokka leaned on the desk and waved again. "Bye Ursa! Anyway, the guy has this nasty scar-"

Something crashed by the door. When Katara looked, Ursa was gathering her purse from the floor with trembling hands.

"My apologies Katara. I- I have to go now."

They watched in confusion as she fled the room.

"Wonder what that was about," Sokka said. He shrugged. "Whatever. Anyway-"

*

Two weeks passed before Katara saw any of the new residents, and it was because they approached her.

She sat on the deck and breathed in the sweet steam of her coffee. They were leaving Southeast Asia now, on their way to the Maldives, and Katara loved the sight of the bright sun peeking above the horizon. She took a sip of her drink and nearly choked when three people appeared in her field of vision.

They were all girls about Katara's age. They had to be the new residents. She sat up straighter. The girl in front seemed to be in charge; her eyes were sharp and her clothing immaculate, even that early in the morning. The other two were as opposite as night and day: one was short and soft, with a cheerful smile and pink clothes, while the other was tall and lithe, and dressed in black and dark red.

"Excuse me," the first girl said. Katara tried not to wince. The girl was one of the snooty ones then. "My name is Azula, and this is Mai and Ty Lee. I heard you were the masseuse. We'd like an appointment."

Katara clutched her coffee to her chest and hoped they didn't notice that she was still in her pajamas. By the look on Azula's face, it was a lost cause.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not working right now," Katara said in her _I'm a Professional And Can't Kill You Because I Need My Job_ voice. "Feel free to visit the spa later today. And I'm the only masseuse on board, so you'll have to schedule separate appointments."

Azula frowned. The tall girl- Mai, or was she Ty Lee?- rolled her eyes but the friendly one smiled wider.

"Ooh, I know! I can help!" She looked at Katara. "I've trained a bit in massage therapy, so you could do Azula and I could do Mai!"

Katara's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure I'm allowed-"

"Perfect!" Azula said, as if Katara had never spoken. "Ty Lee will be back later today to schedule us."

Katara clutched her coffee cup tighter as the three strode away. The sun hadn't even fully risen yet and she already had another set of sessions she wasn't looking forward to.

Well, she thought as she rose and stretched, at least Ty Lee was coming back and not Azula.

She threw her cup away and nodded to a young man with a bad case of bedhead as he emerged from the lower levels.

It wasn't until she was in her room changing that she realized she had no idea who he was.

*

When she escaped from Aang's session the young man was waiting by her desk in the lobby. Aang rubbed a spot on his back when he thought she wasn't looking and smiled.

"Zuko!"

Katara didn't even look at him as she rifled for her calendar. She really needed to organize her desk. "I'll be with you in just a minute sir. Now Aang, same time next week?"

He gazed at her with his big puppy eyes. "Sure thing Katara!"

She resisted the urge to sigh and gave a tight smile instead. It was only after Aang bounded out of the room that she looked at the young man- Zuko. There was a scar covering his left eye and ear, though his hair covered most of it. She realized belatedly that he must've been the final member of the new group.

He scratched the back of his neck. "Um, my sister Azula sent me to schedule them an appointment?" She was surprised by the raspiness of his voice.

"I thought Ty Lee was doing that?" She raised an eyebrow but opened her calendar again nonetheless.

"They got distracted by the prospect of annihilating people in the volleyball tournament."

His cheeks were pink and Katara thought it was the sweetest thing she'd ever seen.

"Do they have a time and date in mind?"

Zuko listed off a few and Katara vetoed the ones where she was already busy. After about a minute, they came to an agreement- "Next Thursday at 7 AM"- and he smiled at her. It was a tiny smile, where one side of his mouth moved higher than the other and she took it back- _that_ was the sweetest thing she had ever seen.

She smiled back. He left and Katara was left staring at the closed door with a sappy grin on her face.

The whole situation registered and her head dropped into her hands. She had eight days to prepare for what might be the most terrifying clients of her life.

*

Katara wondered if she could get fired for letting her clients have sex on the massage table.

Not that Mai and Ty Lee were having sex, but they were getting pretty close.

Ty Lee feathered her hands over Mai's sides and Katara looked away. Azula, unlike her friends, was lying stiff as a board despite Katara's numerous suggestions that she try to relax.

When the hour long session was (finally) over, Katara ushered them from the room and tried to not look too relieved when they didn't schedule another appointment.

She didn't have another client for four hours so Katara took her time in cleaning the room.

Her cell phone rang and she answered it without looking, expecting it to be Sokka calling about their weekly dinner.

"Sugar Queen!" Toph's voice blasted her eardrum. She was probably yelling again. Katara rubbed her ear. "Can I set up an appointment for a foot massage on Monday?"

Katara checked her calendar which was thankfully lying on top of the pile of clutter this time. "Sure thing Toph. Does noon work?"

"Yep! See ya Sweetness!"

Toph hung up and Katara sighed. Toph was one of her few friends on the ship, but foot massages with her were always interesting. She was surprisingly picky.

At least it wasn't Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee again.

*

Katara almost wished Azula was here instead. At least she didn't talk.

"What about the new guy? He's pretty cute," Toph said as Katara switched from her left foot to her right.

"Yeah, he- wait," she glared at Toph as the younger woman laughed and waved a hand in front of her face.

"So now that I know you have a crush on Sparky-" she ignored Katara's objections- "what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing!" Katara resisted the urge to pinch Toph's toe. "And why did you call him Sparky?"

"He can have a mean temper when you try to get between him and the last piece of Mediterranean chicken," Toph said, leaning back in her chair and stretching. Katara thought about the cute, awkward guy she had talked to and wondered if they were thinking of the same person.

"If you don't do something Sweetness, I will."

Katara gulped and focused on the foot in front of her.

*

Katara did nothing for a time and neither did Toph.

Before she knew it _the World_ was skirting the coast of Africa and it was time for Ursa's facial again.

But this time the woman was tense and neither of them could relax. Katara had the rest of the day open, so she offered to give the woman a massage as well.

Ursa agreed quietly, but after an hour she was still rigid. Katara washed her hands and tried to figure out why. In the three years she had known her, Ursa had never been anything but kind and content.

She watched her friend pull up the hood of her sweatshirt- another thing Katara had never seen. Ursa was normally dressed elegantly, even on the days when she visited the spa.

"I think I am going to leave _the World_." Katara gasped, but Ursa only stared at her hands. "I just wanted you to know. Katara, you've been a balm to my soul, but it's time I move on."

Not knowing how to respond, Katara went to her desk and found her calendar. "In that case, Ursa, how about we schedule one last appointment?"

There was a sharp inhale of air. Her head jerked up and Katara was faced with the sight of Zuko standing in the doorway, his face slack.

"Mom?"

Katara looked at Ursa and blanched. She was Zuko's mother?

Ursa reached up and pulled off her hood. She was crying.

"Zuko…"

Zuko crossed the lobby in three strides and Katara watched as they hugged.

So Ursa did have a family. Katara thought of when she had dropped her purse, and her latest proclamation that she was leaving the ship. She wondered why she had been hiding from her children.

Tears were on Zuko's face too, and mother and son left the room without as much as a backwards glance.

*

The next morning, as she watched the sun rise over the ocean, Zuko approached her.

"Hi Katara," he said. He was blushing. She motioned to the chair beside her and inhaled the scent of her coffee.

They sat in silence for a time and Katara enjoyed that it was easy- like sitting with her brother, or Suki.

"I wanted to thank you," he said. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was scratching his neck.

"What for?" As far as she knew, they had only seen each other three times since had had moved in, and only spoken once.

"For helping me find my mother again."

Her heart faltered at the sincerity of his words.

"I didn't do much, really."

He turned to face her. She watched him study her profile in her peripheral vision.

"My sister and her friends wanted to live on _the World_ because it gives them an opportunity to explore while escaping from under our parents' thumbs. I joined them for a chance to search the globe for my mother. Little did I know that she was hiding under my nose, living on the same ship." His voice and his face were earnest. "So thank you, Katara. You showed her to me."

She felt heat rush to her cheeks.

"It was nothing." Zuko fixed her with a flat stare and she sighed. "I'm glad I helped but really, it was more chance than anything."

Zuko sighed to, but smiled. "I suppose we've reached an impasse then."

Katara turned to face him and grinned back. A thought struck her.

"Why were you at the spa yesterday?"

He flushed red.

"Your friend, Toph, told me if I wanted to talk to you I should schedule some sort of massage."

Katara tried to imagine which was more ridiculous- Zuko getting a foot massage or a facial- and laughed. He blushed more and muttered something about needing to go.

Zuko stood and turned to leave. She caught his wrist.

I'm sorry, you just don't seem like the massage type." His back was to her but he ducked his head. The back of his neck was pink. Katara sighed; she was messing this up. "I would love to have dinner sometime though."

He twisted around to face her and smiled, one corner of his mouth higher than the other.

"I'd like that."

Katara felt like the luckiest girl in the world- or at least on _the World_. She wondered if she could get fired for dating a resident and shook it off. They would cross that bridge when they got to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about cruise ships nor masseuses, so sorry for that. This one was fun to write... probably because it's the closest thing to fluff I've written all week.
> 
> I hate to whine, but to be honest guys it's really discouraging to spend days working on something only to not get a single comment. So if you have an extra thirty seconds, I would love to hear from you (even if it's "I like it"). Seriously friends, I squeal and take snapshots and show them to my friend. Each and every comment (and kudos!) is appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Skats


	6. Integrity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. My pride and joy. If Clandestine was a monster, I don't have a word for what this is. Enjoy!

i.

Chief Katara of the Southern Water Tribe is born thirty-three years before the Air Nomad genocide. She spends her childhood learning how to lead her people, and trying to not stare longingly after her friends as they ran off to bending practice.

In her twenty-third year, her father passes his title to her, and she becomes the first female chief in nine generations. Her people love and respect her, and Katara does the same for them. But the first attempt on her life occurs before she reaches her twenty-seventh birthday, and she knows from her informants that there are those outside of her nation that believe she should not be chief, merely because of her gender.

Two years and five attacks later, she learns that not everyone is concerned with her femininity. Whispers reach her ears of Sozin's madness, and the true cause of Avatar Roku's death becomes the subject of rumor and archives alike.

She approaches life more cautiously after one of her servants- a woman she had counted as a dear friend for many years- attempts to smother her in her sleep. Not for the first time, Katara wishes she had been blessed with Tui's gift of controlling the tides, but wishing leads nowhere, so she learns how to protect herself in other ways. At her advisors' urgings, she agrees to take a consort; she will not submit her power to a husband, untrained in the ways of leading an entire tribe, and they eventually learn to accept that.

But Katara needs an heir, something they continue to remind her of even after she selects a companion that is both gentle and wise. Her people are suspicious of him, and rightly so. Fire Lord Sozin grows bolder with each passing year, and Kohaku's amber eyes make even Katara wary on occasion.

He is kind to her though. He is not a firebender, and he yields where she struggles and loves when she fights. They are opposites, and she knows he is good for her people, and for herself. He rises early, and in the minutes before she must paint her status as chief onto her skin each day, he nuzzles his rough, unshaven cheeks against her arm. Katara thinks she might grow to love him.

Word reaches her, a week after she turns thirty-three, that the airbenders have been massacred and the Avatar is missing. Chief Katara locks herself away for the span of a day, and mourns those she had known.

The next morning she wakes at dawn and organizes a search party for the Avatar. Her benders are among the best in the world, but even with their ability to dive below the surface of the arctic waters, the Avatar is not found.

Katara reluctantly abandons the idea, but soon is occupied with the fortifications of her nation. If Sozin tries something similar, they will be prepared.

Two years pass with the Fire Nation as nothing but a distant threat. The wandering tribes return to the capital at her urgings, and though the city is crowded she is relieved to have her people together. Together, they can withstand anything.

Katara conceives sometime after her thirty-fourth birthday, and her advisors are relieved. There is a sense of celebration in the air as her birthing time draws near and she encourages it; the streets of her city are far too tense as of late.

She gives birth in the early hours of the morning, on the second anniversary of the genocide. She trembles and cries when her child's wails fill the stillness. She is sweating and exhausted, but she smiles when they place her daughter in her arms for the first time. She cries tears that soothe instead of burn and smiles when Kohaku- the kind man who helped create this wonderful, wonderful girl- slips into the room as her midwives leave. His eyes are weary. She kisses her daughter's smooth forehead and whispers my sweet daughter.

Chief Katara of the Southern Water Tribe does not look up, even when the knife lodges itself in her heart. She drops onto the bed, and her unseeing eyes watch as Kohaku leaves the room, a cloak pulled over his head and her daughter beneath his arm.

ii.

Buniq knows little and remembers less. She knows her father's soft eyes that glow like fire, but she does not know his name. She calls him dada. She loves to rub her face on his soft coat and play with his hair that tickles her skin when he carries her on his back.

She does not know anything but happiness. Buniq does not remember late nights on the run or long days filled with nothing but hunger and angry voices.

She loves dada though many people don't. She loves to curl up in his lap when he sits beside the ocean. She knows that he watches the sea often, and thinks he must love it as much as she does.

She knows they are traveling, back to dada's home, and that it takes a long time. She can walk and talk before they get there. She is three- nearly grown- when he whispers into her hair that they're almost there. She smiles.

Buniq does not remember the lightning storm, or the flood. She knows the feeling of falling asleep in dada's arms, and the brush of his whiskers against her forehead as he promises that everything will be alright.

iii.

Siku discovers her bending abilities on her sixth birthday. The tribe rejoices- with the threat of Fire Lord Sozin and his army looming larger as each year passes, every bender is needed. She trains with the other benders, and thanks Tui and La that they gave her the ability to protect herself. No one makes fun of her now that she can make the snow under their feet slide away.

She is ten when she sees a man with amber eyes in her dream. She sees him twice more, along with a beautifully sad woman who wears bones in her ears and wisdom on her forehead.

Siku doesn't understand, so she tells her mother. Her mother tells the chief one day as Siku is practicing her bending by opening holes in the ice for the men to fish, and he nods solemnly. He wears bravery on his brow, and gentleness rests in his eyes, and she is so glad he doesn't laugh at her.

Three days later, Siku finds herself standing within the circle of the council of elders. She describes her dreams- how the man and the woman are smiling and fighting and dancing, pushing and pulling in a way not dissimilar to waterbending, when he twirls her and slashes her back with a knife he wasn't holding before. She explains what they look like and how they move, and the elders exchange glances.

They send her away for the afternoon, and when she comes back the snow in the middle of the circle is covered with objects. Siku doesn't understand why when they ask her to pick four items from the pile, but she nods her head, trying to feel as calm as they all looked.

She takes her time, knowing this is important (even if she doesn't know how yet), and tries to look at everything. Some of the items don't interest her- they are either too complicated or too new for her to enjoy looking at for long.

Eventually, Siku settles on a worn blanket that smells like salt from the sea and the ashes of a fire; a jar of paint pigment that reminds her of the beautiful, dancing woman of her dreams; a betrothal necklace that has been worn smooth; and a fur coat that is startling in color but reminds her of her father, though he's never worn something green in his life.

She presents them to the elders and watches as their faces go from shock to disbelief to considerate. She bites her lip as they talk amongst themselves in the ancient language; the one that she won't begin to learn until she reaches majority and proves herself to the council. To her surprise though, she understands one or two words.

"Child," the woman in the middle speaks, and Siku knows her position marks her as the oldest and wisest of the tribe. "We believe you to be the reborn soul of Chief Katara, who was killed several years ago by the very man you described."

She blinks and chews on her lip. What?

The woman sighs softly and smiles at her. "Siku, if we are correct, then there is a reason Tui and La, in all their wisdom, have chosen to continue your soul's journey in the world. Therefore," she motions, and the man to her right rises and kneels before Siku, the paint pigment in his hand, "we name you illiivat, one who is learning regardless of age."

The man draws something above her eyes, and when she returns home she sees it is the same as the mark Chief Katara wears in her dreams.

*

Siku is thirteen when she masters bending and joins the healers of the tribe. She does many things, including care for those wounded both at home and at war. Her patients grow tenser and more afraid, and she sometimes hears the healers whispering about Sozin's assault on their northern sister tribe.

That is why attending to births quickly becomes her favorite task, and one that is often assigned to her for she has a way with the infants. Many believe it is due to her twice-born (though- and she tells no one this, not even her mother- if her dreams are correct, she actually is thrice-born) soul, but she simply says it is because she loves that something good can come from the suffering.

She aids one birth that goes so smoothly she questions it after the fact, but the mother and daughter are safe and that's all that truly matters. The woman names her Hama and smiles.

A month later she midwives a difficult birth that takes nearly a full day. When she places the infant- a girl- into the mother's arms, the woman is shaking and can barely hold her. Siku learns that her name is Anana and that she is originally from the Southern Tribe but lives in the north with her husband. She wanted her child born where she grew up, away from the sieges and battles. Siku smiles and feels her heart swell as she watches the Anana cradle her baby.

The child is named Kanna, and Siku tries not to cry when she and Anana leave to return to the north after hearing word that the Fire Nation has temporarily withdrawn.

*

By her eighteenth birthday she is working on the war front of the north. She heals the wounded and prepares the dead for their sea burials. She attends to no more births. The Northerners are less friendly than her kinsmen, but she tells herself they have been at war for much longer than her people have.

By twenty, she is fighting in the Earth Kingdom. And, as she soon discovers, she's good.

And so six years pass in a blur of hiding, fighting, and running. They sleep little and eat less most days, but when she isn't too tired she helps in the healing tents. She tries to remember how to smile.

Siku long ago stopped wearing the mark of her status, when it became apparent that they did not have the time to make more paint and apply it daily. Her kinsmen do not question her when she stops, but she knows they do not understand, just like most of the earth soldiers do not understand what it means.

One morning she wakes and knows that it is time for her to shoulder her inheritance once more. Though she is reluctant to acknowledge it, in the absence of the Avatar her people draw strength from her. She cannot deny them that comfort, and so she creates her own paint and applies the mark.

When her water tribe brethren- from both the north and the south- see her, they cheer. One curious earthbender asks what it means, and she gives him a simplified answer. She is shocked when he says the Earth Kingdom has a similar concept, though an akhilesh has not been found since ancient times and is mostly considered legend now, like the Avatar. She smiles when he tells her that it means indestructible, as that is the quality they often admire most in earth. The warriors of the Earth Kingdom look at her more fondly after that.

They attack a small Fire Nation outpost four days later, and Siku sees how much the return of their illiivat has encouraged her people.

The fighting is chaos. She finds herself targeted more than a woman on the battlefield normally does. The fire soldiers are aggressive. When she leans down to dispatch a man already injured, he lunges. Siku pulls back, cursing herself, but he wipes at the paint on her forehead. He bares his teeth in a smile, growls something, and dies.

Siku stands above his body and stares at his unfocused eyes for a long moment. Scalding anger sloshes in her stomach and chest and before she can think too hard she washes the remaining paint off her skin. Then she repaints it with his blood.

She turns and snarls at the closest firebender and launches herself at him. The Fire Nation may try to steal everything else from her people, but they will not steal their hope. She will not allow it.

The soldier is on the defensive immediately. He may have the advantage- it is still day and she has a limited supply of water- but she is angry and terrified and will not back down.

Siku advances. He retreats. They dance for a moment longer until his foot catches on a fallen body. She watches his amber eyes close in defeat as he crashes to the ground. She draws up a whip that is tinted pink and freezes it to a deadly point. She draws closer to his collapsed form and raises her arm to strike. Someone yells a name, "Akaihi," and his eyes snap open.

At the last second she stops. There is something hauntingly familiar about the shape of his face, the curve of his brow. And when his attention is drawn to something behind her, she reacts too slowly.

Searing pain erupts in the middle of her back, and though she tries to fight back, it consumes her.

iv.

They see the age of her soul before Nilak knows it, or dreams anything even remotely peculiar. They paint her forehead and bring her to the palace. She lives with the Chief's family and learns with her children. She trains in the ancient art of waterbending and wants for nothing.

Even as the times grow darker and the threat of the Fire Nation draws ever closer to home, the elders continue sheltering her. Nilak wants to tell them that she has fought firebenders before, that she has likely seen more death than they have, but she doesn't. She knows war is no place for a seven-year-old, no matter how many years she may have actually lived.

The raids begin in earnest a month after her ninth birthday. The council of elders forbids her from leaving the palace as her people try to fight them off. She tries to obey them, but she loves the men and women out there. Hama is bound to be fighting, and where Hama is Kanna isn't far behind. At the very least, she can try to save them. She can't imagine seeing them dead, two women she held at birth and loved dearly. Love dearly.

Nilak holds out for a day before she sneaks outside. She is not sure what a girl who is not yet ten can do, but she is going to try.

The once peaceful streets ring with shouts. Explosions echo. People scream. She laments that this fate has finally befallen her tribe.

Taking a deep breath, Nilak sneaks through the city.

She stays in the shadows when she can, and only bends when she won't be noticed. She shifts the snow beneath firebenders' feet, bends it down the back of their uniforms in small amounts. It isn't a lot- isn't enough- but sometimes her interference is all it takes for the tide of the fight to turn.

She slips up. Nilak sees a woman sprawled in the street, blood seeping from her shoulder.

It's Kanna.

Before she can think, Nilak is out in the open and healing her friend's wound. Kanna's eyes are glazed, but concern replaces pain as she sees who is bent over her.

"Illiivat, no! Go back to the palace!"

Nilak shakes her head and draws up more water, but she never had the knack for healing. She frowns and tries again. This time the ugly cut closes enough so blood only dribbles from it. She sits back and smiles, weary from her efforts.

A hand grabs the back of her parka.

"Well, look what we have here," a man sneers, his voice garbled behind his white mask. "A waterbender."

He drags Nilak away from Kanna. Her friend yells and tries to get up, but another soldier appears and presses his boot to her injury. She cries out in pain.

She is the last thing Nilak sees before the soldier hits her over the back of her head and she falls into blackness.

*

Nilak wakes in a cell that creaks and shifts in time to the pulse of the ocean. She is alone, but there are other voices in the area. The Fire Nation has stolen her people then, herself included. Nilak's attempts to help have only hurt the tribe further.

Her heart breaks as she squints at the person across from her and sees it's Hama, curled in on herself.

The back of her head pounds fiercely. Nilak pats through her hair and flinches. The hand comes away sticky with blood. She tries not to cry. It's comforting to know, when she checks, that the mark is only slightly smeared.

Hours pass with no sign of the firebenders. Nilak is half asleep when she sees the slight form of a boy approach the bars of her cell.

"Here's your food," He whispers, pushing a tray toward her. She debates with herself for a heartbeat before crawling closer. She is too woozy to stand, and her wound is still sluggishly bleeding. She reaches the food and snatches up the roll. The boy doesn't leave.

Nilak studies him while she chews. He isn't much older than she is. When she catches his eyes he holds her gaze.

He has amber eyes. She knows him.

"What is your name?"

He looks around and leans closer. "Yakedo. I'm training to be a soldier."

Nilak scrambles back. Yakedo stares at her for a moment, shadows dancing on his face, before scampering away.

She finishes the roll and moves on to the rice.

*

Fire Lord Sozin looms over her. Nilak can't move, can't make a sound. He lights a flame in the palm of his hand.

Something catches his eye behind her and Sozin smiles. Kohaku comes until view. He's carrying Buniq.

Ice grips her heart. She can't move. Can't breathe.

She's only nine years old. Yet Nilak watches her lover tear the head off her child. Sozin smiles. She can't breathe. Kohaku advances.

Someone is screaming. It's her- no, it's Hama. No, it's both.

Nilak's body lurches, her blood twists in her veins. Her arms jerk above her head. She's holding a knife.

She stabs Kanna. She screams but it's only in her head.

Fish hooks worm their way under her nails. Yakedo smirks and creates a fireball and burns the Fire Nation into her skin.

She's only nine. She can't breathe.

*

Someone is screaming. Nilak can't open her eyes.

"Her wound is infected! She's dying!" It's Hama. "Let me heal her!"

Nilak's head is bleeding; she can feel it on her neck. Everything is heavy. Pain lives in her bones.

She rips her eyes open. Sees Hama, desperation on her face, pressing her body against the bars of her cell, arm outstretched. She hopes Hama will be alright.

"Let me heal her!"

Nilak lets her eyes close.

v.

Arjalinerk is named for the ashes that still coated the ground when she was born. In the chaos following the raids, it takes days for anyone besides Kanna to notice that Nilak is missing, and by that time, Arjalinerk has already been born. She does not wear the mark on her brow, but she knows the truth, and that is enough.

Waterbending is forbidden before she discovers her abilities, and so no one will take her as a student. But she has forty years of experience behind her. She reteaches herself in between chores and beneath the moon, whenever she can sneak away.

In her eleventh year the chief decides to move the tribe. There have been two more raids since the first, with benders and nonbenders alike killed and stolen.

No one has heard from Hama. Kanna is heartbroken.

They migrate across the ice, nomads in a lifeless land. Some succumb to the cold, others to the predators. One little boy falls through a hole in the ice and can't be saved because there is no one who remains with the knowledge to locate his body and bend him out.

The chief in her laments the loss of her once beautiful city, and every part of her mourns for her people, brought so low.

They lose contact first with their sister tribe, then with the Earth Kingdom.

The tribe's progress is slow, with the warriors and fishermen trailing them in the canoes and precious few sailing vessels that have so far survived the war.

Arjalinerk helps in every way she can; she carries the packs of the elders that remain, gives some of her food each night to a different child.

It's not enough. Nothing is ever enough.

A year passes before they settle again, but gone are the massive ice walls and fortified igloos she built lifetimes ago. Instead, the children form a barrier of snow they can still see over and the adults hunt until they have enough materials to sew tents that don't keep out the cold.

She labors alongside her people, and it isn't until her fingers are raw and throat hoarse that she takes up her bending again.

One night, when the midnight sun paints the ice in stark, harsh light, she sneaks away from the tribe. Arjalinerk walks until she can no longer see the smoke of the communal fire and her feet rest on the far edge of the south. She stares at the icebergs resting on the back of the sea and wonders, perhaps, if the Avatar is among them.

It is there that she bends until she forgets who she is and her body is so tired she feels nothing.

And it is there that he finds her.

Snow crunches when she isn't moving, and she whips around, water tentacles half-formed.

The sight of the white face plate hits her like a punch to the stomach.

She gasps when he takes off the mask and amber eyes stare out at her. His brow is furrowed and a question haunts his mouth, but neither of them speak.

"Yakedo?" A voice barrels around an outcropping of ice and she is breathless. He became a soldier after all.

And she is twelve years old while he is twenty. He does not know her. He cannot.

But when she glances to the sea and forms a plan, he half-steps forward and reaches his hand out. The other soldier catches up to his voice. She jumps just as he throws a fireball.

It is soothing, in a way, to be cradled by her element in her dying moments. La sways her in his arms and Tui croons a warrior's melody in her ear. Arjalinerk relaxes, opens her mouth, and swallows the ocean.

vi.

She sees him again, six years later. Her name is Nanuq and his unmasked eyes widen when he stumbles into her family's tent. He stares at her eyes, and then her forehead, where wisdom is proudly displayed.

"Who are you?"

Nanuq keeps her mouth shut and draws up a water whip. She is tiny, but part of her is incredibly skilled. And her mother had left her in charge of her younger sister before running to join the fight; she will not let anything happen to little Tikaani, even if it costs her life.

Tikaani chooses that moment to wail. Yakedo's face opens with understanding, and he backs out of the tent.

Nanuq doesn't dare to move, hardly dares to breathe. There's no way-

A voice shatters her hope. "Find anything good, Yakedo?"

A head shoves its way through the tent flaps and she doesn't have time to drop her water.

"A bender!" The head is joined by the rest of the body. The soldier sneers down at her. Yakedo ducks back into her home, his mouth tight with worry. She wonders, but doesn't dare hope again.

"Leave her alone, Enkou."

Enkou's sneer twists into something uglier. "You know your orders, solider, and they're the same as mine. Any waterbenders are to be eliminated immediately."

Her heart stutters; she doesn't want to be burned again. And then it threatens to stop when Tikaani cries again and Enkou bares his teeth.

"What's this? Perhaps another filthy bender?" Enkou lights his fist. Yakedo reaches out. "May as well kill that one too."

She will not let her sister die.

So Nanuq strikes him across the face with her whip.

Enkou's jaw clenches and the flame erupts into a barely contained inferno. He draws his arm back.

"No!" Yakedo lunges between them and curls himself around her body.

They both burn.

vii.

Tikaani does not. Her illiivat soul is once again lost in the wake of disaster. She doesn't mind, nor does she particularly care when her bending never manifests itself.

The tribe moves again, and again. They have replaced the Air Nomads, and in more ways than one. The Fire Nation leaves them alone for a time, and the people of the south are lulled into a thing that only vaguely resembles peace anymore.

Her parents- and Nanuq- are dead, killed in the raid. Kanna has her own family. No one misses her when, on her thirteenth birthday, she sails to Kyoshi Island and fights for a position as one of their respected warriors. The people of Kyoshi do not budge until she draws the mark on her skin.

A one armed man, bent nearly in half with age and hardship, takes one look at her and begins to cry. She learns he was a part of her fighting, so many years ago. They allow her to train in their ways.

Tikaani is excellent, because, if nothing else, she knows war.

Years pass and she hones her skills. She becomes a master of the fan, and reacquaints herself with a sword.

But when she calls Kyoshi Island to arms, no one answers. They have stayed out of the war thus far, and plan to keep it that way.

So she leaves.

She travels to places she barely remembers and takes paths she could walk in her sleep, but she never finds the earthbending soldiers she searches for. Perhaps they avoid her; perhaps there are none left.

Rumors are her only source of news, so five years after leaving her homeland, she decides that she will help her sister tribe fight against the siege. Tikaani doesn't care if they don't allow women to fight; she will dress as a man if she must. But she will help.

She makes it as far as Omashu before she is ambushed by a patrol of firebenders.

They are not as subtle as they believe themselves to be. She knows they are there long before they attack her; years of training with the best warriors in the world have only honed her experience to deadly accuracy.

So when a soldier with a young face and eager flames rushes at her, she is not surprised. She is rather anticipating it actually.

Another one joins the first, and then there are six of them and she spares a thought to Tui that perhaps this would have been a good life to grant her knowledge of the tides.

She is quick to dispose of the first few, who are mostly overenthusiastic youths. The others are more experienced, and more wary of the word on her forehead, but she weaves and dances through them all the same.

One struggles to stand and she tries not to roll her eyes. It is the original bender. She knows his eyes, but it is not the time to reason with him. She will fight, and she will win.

Someone groans and shifts to her left. He coughs.

"Ravikiran, here!" A blade is traveling through the air and the soldier catches it.

She laughs. "Yes, you certainly look like a ray of sunshine, don't you?"

He snarls and attacks.

He is more erratic than before. He uses both bending and the sword, switching so frequently that she has a hard time understanding his strategy, if he even has one. Regardless, Tikaani is winning, and they both know it.

She is winning until a hand latches onto her ankle and she falls backwards.

Her breath stops and Ravikiran's face is triumphant as she sprawls, a knife in her back.

viii.

Iluq knows a few things: firebenders are bad, she can't find her best friend Kesuk, and it's very cold after the sun goes down.

She stumbles away from the group of tents. Black smoke that tastes like charred meat and makes her cough follows her. Iluq cries and tries to yell for Kesuk, but her voice won't work. Her fingers are cold. She can't move them anymore. A shadow looms and she can't stop crying. She tries to hide but the shadow gets closer. She tries to run but her legs don't move when she tells them to.

The shadow grabs her and covers her body with soft fabric. Iluq thinks she should try to get away, but her body is tired. Her throat hurts. She's so sleepy. She lifts her hand and touches the shadow. A white and red mask- firebender- looks down.

"Save Kesuk. Please," Iluq asks, and then she goes to sleep.

ix.

For the first time, when she becomes aware of herself as illiivat, she is already a child. Beyond that, she is Kesuk, Iluq's best friend.

It is difficult to adjust to being someone other people previously knew. She tries to act the way Kesuk had when she was Iluq, but people still tell her guardians that she's been different, since the raid. Kesuk never thought she could be thankful for such a terrible thing, but in a way she is.

She has her bending still, and for that she is fiercely glad.

As time wears on, she recognizes joining with Kesuk's spirit as the blessing it is. No one realizes who she truly is. Kesuk hopes she will live longer this time.

*

She watches Kanna watch Kya's belly.

"I have a feeling about this one," Kanna says, and she smiles when Kya furrows her brow. "I have been alive for seven of our illiivat's lives, and personally known her for three."

Kesuk smiles; Kanna has known four of her previous lives, in one way or another, and the woman does not suspect that a fifth one sits across the fire from her.

"Name her Katara, please, Kya," Kanna says, and Kesuk is reminded how much she loves her, this woman she helped birth who is now old enough to be her grandmother. And if Kanna's- and Kesuk's- reckonings are correct, she truly will be her grandmother soon.

*

Chief Hakoda decides on her tenth birthday, when her bending becomes too powerful to hide, to send her to the Earth Kingdom, where she can be more easily hidden. He personally captains the ship that is meant to bear her for half of the journey.

When they reach the predetermined spot where they will meet the people of Kyoshi, the other ship is nowhere in sight. Chief Hakoda hands the helm to his second, Bato, and comes to stand beside her. Kesuk stares at the water and feels the shifting wood beneath her feet, the spray of the ocean on her arms, and the harsh sting of the wind on her face. She has lived this often enough; she knows what comes next. Kya is too close to full term, and, like Kanna, Kesuk feels it in her bones that the child of the ferocious man beside her will be important.

So when the Fire Nation warship appears on the horizon, Kesuk only sighs and feels every single year her soul has been alive. Chief Hakoda looks down at her, a wrinkle between his eyebrows, and she gives him a tired smile.

As the Fire Nation ship approaches, she finds herself wishing she was older. All of her knowledge of war and combat is practically useless in this tiny, untrained body.

Even still, when the firebenders board the ship, Kesuk uses her bending to keep the deck and sails from burning until one soldier notices her. Then there is no stopping them, and, despite the efforts of her kinsmen, she eventually falls.

She thinks, as the sword pierces her chest, that at least it wasn't fire that killed her this time. And then she thinks about how much she loves her people. She hopes they can escape, and that she didn't just steal her next life's father before she is even born. And then she smiles and thinks no more.

Before they give her body back to La, Chief Hakoda paints the symbol of wisdom on her forehead and bows to her small body.

x.

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, daughter of Kya and Chief Hakoda and lone waterbender of the south, has had the dreams her entire life. She knows who she is- and was- long before Gran Gran tells her. Katara is proud, but she doesn't wear the mark of the wise on her brow. It has caused too much trouble in the past. Gran Gran respects her decision.

She is glad for it, because it hides her identity when the Fire Navy raids her village. She hates herself too, because it takes her mother from her. At least Katara would be reborn; Kya- sweet Kya who raised her in this life and helped in the last and was her friend even before that- will not.

She is thankful for her past when suddenly she is the woman of their little family and must help Gran Gran with the chores. Sokka's socks don't smell so bad when she remembers the scent of a battle, and the long, deadly treks across the ice.

She holds her memories close to her heart as she watches her father, Bato, and all of the other men sail away. Many of them she grew up with, at one time, and for others she helped ease their mothers' discomfort as they gave birth. She does not want them to die.

A year passes, and she pierces her ears in the style of the old chiefs. Another, and a weight settles in her bones. Something is coming. Katara practices her waterbending and thanks Tui and La for blessing her in this life. She thanks them for naming her illiivat and giving her the memories of one hundred years.

She praises them when she destroys the iceberg and finds Aang.

For an instant, she is Chief Katara, searching the sea for the lost Avatar, and she smiles and shakes her head that he was so close for so many years. But Katara can admit that perhaps this was meant to be; perhaps the Avatar will need her wisdom and knowledge of what transpired in the time he was gone.

Aang smiles at her like she hung the stars in the sky, and she can recognize infatuation for what it is. She is kind, but holds him at arm's length. Katara's soul is as old as he should be, and she does not forget that fact.

Sokka finds it all very amusing.

When the Fire Navy vessel crashes into their village, she finds she cannot thank Tui and La enough, because Aang isn't here and she would know the amber eyes of that teenager anywhere. She is not the only illiivat in the world.

Katara does not step in when he makes a fool of Sokka, nor does she move when he grabs Gran Gran, but behind her back, she bends a water whip into being. It isn't until he creates fire daggers in his fists that she decides enough is enough. Katara drops her whip and swings her arms. The guards accompanying him are frozen up to their necks in an instant.

The young man- Katara is unsure who he is, but thinks she recognizes the flag of the ship- steps back and his eyes widen. Then he snarls and lunges.

She water whips him in the face and freezes his hands to the icy ground.

"Who are you?" His only answer is to awkwardly bend with his feet, so she freezes those too. "Who are you?"

He breathes heavily, and she worries that he will use the fire in his lungs to burn her, but he just looks at her. His shoulders slump minutely.

"I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation."

Behind her, someone gasps; she thinks it might be Gran Gran. Katara nods. That confirms her suspicions of who he travels with.

"I would like an audience with General Iroh."

The prince's eyes widen and his brow furrows, but he agrees. She stalls only long enough to run to Sokka's tent. When she emerges, she wears bones in her ears and wisdom on her brow. She draws her hood up and walks to the prince.

Katara unfreezes Prince Zuko enough so that he can walk. He leads the way as she holds an ice dagger to his throat. She remembers the last time she trusted those eyes.

It is not her first time on a Fire Navy ship, and Kataara shudders as they pass the entrance to the brig, but Prince Zuko marches by without a glance. Guards approach them in the dark metal hallways, their steps echoing, and the first time the prince doesn't wave them off soon enough she pricks his neck with her ice. He is quicker to ask them to stand down after that.

One man with gray hair and lines around his mouth refuses to move from their path, even after she draws Prince Zuko's blood. He settles into a bending stance and fills his palm with fire.

Katara bares her teeth. "Are you sure you want to pick this fight?" With her left hand she motions to the passage around them. "I'm a waterbender, and we're on a chunk of ice in the middle of the ocean."

He stands calmly, flame still flickering, but his eyes seek Prince Zuko's.

"She means me no harm Lieutenant Jee," Prince Zuko's voice is raspier than before, and Katara squashes her shame before it can begin. "Make sure the rest of the crew is alright."

Katara pokes his throat again. Prince Zuko glares at her from the corner of his eye. "And don't hurt any of the water peasants."

Lieutenant Jee smothers his flame and moves to one side. Katara makes sure to keep the prince between him and herself as they pass.

After another minute of tense silence Prince Zuko stops before a door and knocks with his knee. A man says to enter. She waits for Zuko to move but he just stands there. When she prods him, trying to look as intimidating as she can with an overly large hood covering her eyes, he just raises his one good eyebrow and glances at his hands. Katara realizes that they're still encased in ice and tries not to blush.

This would be so much easier if she wasn't fourteen.

She opens the door and they cross the threshold. Katara is surprised by how modest it is. She looks closer and realizes that the room is decorated in artifacts from all four nations, Air Nomads included. She's not sure if this makes her more or less cautious.

Someone clears their throat and she follows the sound. Katara is stunned to see General Iroh sitting on a cushion, smiling at her. His hands rest lightly on the surface of the table before him, and his eyes are almost gentle. General Iroh- former Crown Prince of the Fire Nation and famed Dragon of the West- looks more like a grandfather she half remembers.

"Would you care to join me for some delicious ginseng tea?"

And apparently, he likes tea.

She waits a heartbeat, weighing her options, before sitting. General Iroh's smile grows, and he is beaming by the time Prince Zuko kneels by her left side. After a second of thought, she melts his bonds but keeps her ice dagger.

General Iroh busies himself with pouring the tea, humming lightly under his breath. She's never heard the song before, and wonders if it is something from the illustrious fire court.

He places a delicate cup before her and she blows on it before taking a sip. She sighs.

"This is delicious, General Iroh!"

He laughs. "There's no need to call me general, child. I retired long ago."

She shrugs and drinks some more, enjoying the heat of it as it fills her belly. "Even still." He smiles and thanks her.

Prince Zuko slams his fists on the table. "This is no time for pleasantries Uncle! This peasant has dared to humiliate me, and now you're drinking tea with her?"

Iroh places his own cup on the table and frowns at the younger man. "Nephew, that is no way to act when we have a guest. And please ask for forgiveness, the name calling is unnecessary."

Katara giggles into her hand as Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation pouts. He doesn't look at her as he mumbles a barely meant apology. She wonders how this boy could possibly be the same soul as the one she nearly loved, ten lifetimes ago.

Iroh gives him a gentle smile before turning back to her.

"Now, my dear," he says, "would you like to take off your coat? It can get quite warm in here."

She takes a deep breath and nods. This could either guarantee her half-formed plan or condemn it.

Katara undoes the clasps lining her front, and waits until the last possible moment to remove her hood. She keeps her face downturned as she takes off the comfortable furs and places them to the side. Taking one more breath and clasping her ice dagger tightly, she raises her chin.

Iroh stares back at her with a calm sort of understanding in his gaze that convinces her to relax. He is not a threat to her, and she is grateful.

She turns her head to look at Prince Zuko. He studies her face and stutters. His eyes are wide, and this close she knows that she truly is familiar with their color and shape.

"What is your name, my dear?" Iroh asks. His voice is as kind as his face.

"Katara." She doesn't take her eyes away from the amber ones next to her. "And you are Prince Zuko in this life, but you have known many names. Including, I think, Kohaku."

Prince Zuko shudders and turns his face away. He grips his ponytail with one hand and whispers Katara under his breath. She cannot look away as a tear trails over his cheek.

"I believe you are what the Fire Nation calls nivedita, Katara," Iroh says. In her peripheral vision she can see him glance between the two of them. "It has several meanings, depending on the use, but in this case it translates to a person dedicated to service."

She likes that, and how he's willing to share such a fact with her. "In the tribes they call me illiivat. I have one question, Prince Zuko." He doesn't look at her. "Zuko," she hears something in his neck pop as he shifts just enough to see her out of his good eye, "there is one life I can't truly remember. What happened to Buniq?"

His torso convulses and he chokes on unintelligible words. Katara decides to leave the subject for now, though she's aching to know what could have occurred to illicit such a reaction.

She rotates until she's sitting forward once more. "I have a plan to end this war, but I'm going to need help from both of you."

Iroh's eyes glint as he pulls something from his pocket and places it on the table. He picks up his tea once more as Katara leans in to study it further. She is surprised to see a white lotus tile, and nearly forgotten memories flash in her mind. She has seen this symbol before, and not just in one lifetime.

He bows to her over his cup. "You have my services, Lady Katara. And," he shoots a sly look at Zuko, "hopefully those of my nephew as well."

"I will tell you about Buniq if you tell me why you didn't kill Akaihi," Zuko's voice is soft, as close to Kohaku's as she's heard in ninety-four years, and that alone makes her agree.

"He was only a boy," She says. "And I recognized his eyes."

"I took Buniq, after I- after you died." His voice cracks. She does not correct him, yet. "I fled, trying to reach Capital City where Fire Lord Sozin had offered me protection. It took years, because tribesmen were hunting me, but I finally managed to get within the borders of the Fire Nation. And then they created a storm- to this day, I don't know how they did it- and in the flood I lost hold of her." Zuko places his head on the table. He trembles, but Katara cannot bring herself to touch him. "I found her later, and wrapped her in a coat I had stolen."

The coat she remembers. It was one of the objects the elders used to identify her soul, back when she was Siku and there were enough elders to have a council.

"You have stolen many things over the years, Zuko, and our daughter is perhaps the most grievous of those offenses, but I believe you can atone for those things. If you help Aang restore balance to the world."

Zuko's shaking subsides for a moment, before becoming even more violent. In the background she can hear Iroh coughing, and apologizing for choking on his tea. Zuko nods. Katara feels like she actually is fourteen as her heart races. They can do this. Together, they will help Aang end the war.

They sit in silence, and then Katara does what is possibly the bravest thing she has attempted in any of her lives.

She lays her hand on Zuko's quaking back. Zuko stills almost immediately. She feels the tension drain from him. Neither acknowledge it, as he keeps his head on the table and she begins discussing specifics with the former general.

Hours later, she stands and wishes them a good night. Katara still has to complete her part of the initial plan and the moon is already close to rising; it sings to her as she shakes the soreness from her muscles.

Zuko helps Iroh stand as she gathers her coat, and though they are quiet, she can hear them still.

"Zuko! You never told me you had a daughter! To think, I was a great-uncle before I was even born!"

Katara giggles into the fur of her collar and leaves. She exits the ship without any hindrances and realizes that her ice dagger melted at some point. She doesn't know when.

*

One year later, on the one hundredth anniversary of the war, she heals a burn shaped like a star on Zuko's chest and helps him stand. They watch his mad, broken sister scream. He leans his face on her forehead, and his unshaven cheek prickles her skin. She savors the sensation. Katara knows this is her last life, she feels it in her bones. She prays to Tui and La and asks them to grant her a long, happy one this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I spent so much time on this one, and I'm quite proud of it.
> 
> Have a great weekend! :)
> 
> Skats


	7. Maelstrom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maelstrom
> 
> [Turbulence; violent turmoil] or: [A powerful whirlpool in the sea or a river]
> 
> I'm not totally sure where this came from, to be perfectly honest. This takes place a few years after canon, and Kataang never happened.

Deep in the Earth Kingdom, there was a village in a clearing beside a stream. In many parts of the world, that was rather unremarkable. Very few of the villagers had ever left the safety of their forest, and those that did rarely saw other benders. They knew that there had once been a terrible war between the firebenders and the rest of the world, but it was so long ago as to be barely remembered.

But once a month, a whirlpool formed in the deepest part of the river and thundered all day. And when the full moon rose, the vortex subsided and a young, dark skinned woman stepped from the water.

She had been appearing for as long as the village had stood. Maybe longer, for all the people knew.

What they did know was this: her blue eyes were unlike anything they’d ever seen; she could control the river with her hands and feet; and she spent all night waiting by the edge of the water, tracking the moon’s progress across the sky.

They didn’t know her name, as every time someone approached her she slipped back into the stream, so the villagers called her Ratna, for the blue jewel she wore around her neck.

The moment Ratna waited for seldom came, for it only happened when the sun’s rays broke the horizon while the moon was still in the sky.

When that occured, a man stepped from the horizon.

They called him Durjaya, because he never gave in to Ratna, just as she never surrendered to him.

On the uncommon occasion that he appeared, Durjaya pulled the fire of the sun down with him and Ratna met him in the middle with half of the river in her grasp.

Their fights were barely contained chaos. They never lasted more than a few minutes but everything was raging heat and blinding, hissing steam and pounding water.

And when the sun was fully settled in the sky, the steam sank away and the villagers would catch a glimpse of her fingers on his neck, and his lips on her cheek.

Ratna would slip away into the river, and Durjaya spent the rest of the day seated on the rocks of the water’s edge, watching the whirlpool slowly dissipate.

At dusk he extinguished the fire in his fists and fled back to the sky.

*

Katara pushed a branch out of her face and looked forward to her companion, who was hacking away at the foliage that blocked their path.

“Zuko, are you sure this is the right way?”

He stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow but didn’t turn around.

“The village men said there was a settlement in one of the forest’s clearings where a woman of Fire Nation descent was recently seen. It has to be her.”

Normally Katara admired her friend’s determination, but they were nowhere near civilization. The sun was close to setting and she was covered in soars from leech-a-pillars.

“We may have to consider the possibility that the men lied to us,” she said. Ahead, Zuko’s shoulders slumped. Katara felt horrible. This was the first time in years that Zuko had had any sort of hope for finding his mother, and she was only being negative.

Katara walked forward, pulled yet another leech-a-pillar from her arm, and placed her hand between Zuko’s shoulder blades. Even the swords in his hands seemed to droop.

“I’m sorry, Zuko,” and she meant it.

They had left Caldera City nearly fourth months ago to find Ursa, but the woman was proving to be incredibly illusive. Everywhere they stopped, someone had information that she was just over the next hilltop. Katara knew the Fire Lord’s gold had something to do with the sudden- but misleading- support.

She also knew they were in Hei Bai’s forest, and though Aang was friendly with the spirit, that wouldn’t save them from his wrath if Zuko kept slicing at the trees and plants.

“Why don’t we set up camp for the night? We can head back to the village and question the men again in the morning.”

He nodded and turned away to start a fire. Katara let her hand fall, wincing as he broke branches off of trees. They would have to have a conversation tomorrow.

She watched her friend stare at flame cradled in his fingers and felt something in her chest clench.

Katara was carrying their shared pack that day and she shrugged it off to start on dinner. They had to find Ursa, before Zuko’s shoulders could curl any further in on themselves.

*

Once, only a short time after the village had been built, thieves had snuck in in the dead of night. The inhabitants woke to knives at their throats and demands that they gather anything of value.

They were being held in the town center when the black night burst with light. A man with a scarred face stepped down from the clouds and chased away the thieves, bending fire at their backs. He cut the villagers’ bonds with his double swords and disappeared.

He did not appear for several years. The dark skinned woman never abandoned her position by the water’s edge, but her eyes grew sadder with each passing moon cycle.

*

Katara woke in the middle of the night to Zuko’s eyes hovering above hers and his hand on her arm.

“Look,” he whispered. “Smoke.”

She followed his gaze to the sky, and sure enough, there was the telltale haze of a fire blocking the stars.

Katara sat up and tied her hair back. She observed as Zuko unsheathed her swords and followed when he crept forward. Her hand never strayed far from the water skin on her hip.

It took some time to sneak through the underbrush, but thankfully Zuko was not making his own path. They came to the edge of a clearing, and Zuko took the time to shoot Katara a look. She rolled her eyes.

The scene before them made her gasp.

If there was a settlement, it was gone now. Katara wondered how they hadn’t heard the crackling or smelled the fumes earlier.

This was no campfire, nor a village cooking flame.

This was an inferno.

Beside her, Zuko stiffened. “Mom!”

Katara tried to grab his arm to stop him- tried to tell him they had no proof that Ursa was here. They needed a plan. But he slipped through her grasp and ran toward the flames.

Few of the buildings were still standing, and those that were bellowed as they burned. Zuko ran and Katara tailed him, water skin uncapped but untouched. She would need to conserve it in this heat.

Everything was twisting orange and red. Blistering heat licked at her limbs. Smoke irritated her throat. Someone was lying in the middle of the road and she sprinted to them.

Katara stumbled back and tried not to vomit. They were dead- charred beyond saving.

She glanced up and Zuko was gone. She screamed his name and thought she heard his voice amidst the roaring burn but couldn’t be sure.

Underneath it all, she caught the faintest whisper that resonated in her bones. There was water nearby.

She stumbled and coughed her way to the other side and was welcomed by the sight of a shallow stream. Relief blasted in her veins. She might have been crying. She wasn’t sure. Her face felt like sun-dried leather.

Taking a deep breath to center herself, Katara turned back to the settlement. Everything was shrieking fire and groaning wood. The flames were high enough to tease the tree branches.

She had no idea how anyone could survive in there. She thought of Zuko and prayed to Tui and La that he would be alright.

Katara raised her arms and behind her a wave taller than the trees formed. Then, she sent it rushing forward.

*

Sometimes, the villagers knew, even well-meant mistakes could have deadly consequences.

One fine summer’s day, a young man lit the cooking fires to prepare a meal. He meant to woo his beloved, but, as is often the case, he was soon distracted by his friends. They left to go hunting in the surrounding forest, but the young man forgot to extinguish his fire.

In the dry summer air, it did not take long for it to spread. Soon, flames were crawling through the grass and dancing in doorways. People ran for the safety of the trees.

Before they could organize themselves, the river roared and spat up Ratna. Not moving, she stood on the surface of the stream and bent water toward the village.

She flowed from one stance to another, element mirroring her motions. Tendrils of water snaked between the buildings, flooding the village and putting out the flames.

When it was done, Ratna bowed her head to the gather people and sank below the gentle ripples.

She did not appear again for nearly two decades.

*

When Katara could think straight once more, the fire was gone, the night was silent, and Zuko stood before her, pale and soaked. She thanked the spirits that he was alright.

Something in her head pounded fiercely. Zuko advanced and she smiled. When he was close enough for his face to be visible, it slid from her mouth.

He was furious.

“What was that?” Oh how she hated his quiet anger. Katara almost wished he was still the brash, hotheaded youth that chased them around the world. At least then he would yell until he wasn’t mad anymore. Quiet Zuko was deadly.

She reached her hand out, to steady both him and herself, but he drew back. She wobbled on her feet.

“Look, Katara! You destroyed all of the buildings!”

She did look. Zuko was right; the few structures that had stood were now just piles of rubble like the rest, though not all of that was strictly her fault. They had been on fire. She didn’t understand his rage.

“Zuko, why are you mad? I put out the fire.”

“She could have been alive!” He yelled. Her head throbbed. She clutched it. Katara couldn’t remember a time she had bent so much water at one time. Just out of her reach, Zuko pulled at his hair.

“Zuko, no one could survive that,” Katara’s heart broke for him as he groaned and shook his head. “You’re lucky you made it out of there.”

He pulled at his hair and blew flames from his mouth. She hoped he didn’t catch anything else on fire. She wasn’t sure she could bend again so soon. On closer scrutiny, Zuko’s clothes were scorched. Katara was sure he had been trying to search the buildings. She was fiercely glad he didn’t get hurt.

The thought of her dear friend sacrificing his life for a mother he hadn’t seen in nearly a decade was suddenly too much. Katara’s legs buckled and she fell to her knees and Zuko was crouched right in front of her, making sure she was okay. His hair dripped on his face but his eyes were wide and scared.

Katara nodded in answer to his frantic questions and he crushed her to his chest. His wet clothes clung to hers but she could still feel the tears seeping into the fabric covering her shoulder.

She kissed his hair and whispered nonsense in his ear and wished they could have done something more.

Something crashed, deep in the forest, and Zuko stiffened against her. Katara prayed to the spirits that it was just some animal, running away from the clearing.

The four-armed monstrous form of Hei Bai thundered through the trees, and Katara changed her prayer.

She only wanted them to make it out of this alive.

*

It took the people of the village many years to come up with a name for their little settlement. For the first few generations it didn’t matter, because it was only them and they didn’t require a name to know that this place was their home.

But travelers did pass through, no matter how rarely, and they eventually acknowledged that they needed a way to distinguish who they were.

After much deliberation, the people voted to name their home Tonrar, after the two souls that protected them.

The people of Tonrar knew Ratna and Durjaya were spirits. They did not know what their original purposes had been, but the two had become the town’s guardians.

As the years passed, they erected shrines to the pair. It wasn’t purposeful- at least not at first- just a sweet cake laid out for Ratna during her long vigils or a shelter constructed to protect Durjaya from the blistering sun. Soon, the rock where the sweet cake was usually put was covered in swirls of blue paint. Children laid flowers around her resting place, and elders took turns keeping watch over her. The shelter was painted with red and orange, and young men and women visited it to ask Durjaya for luck in their ventures.

Tonrar prospered under their keen eyes, and the forest flourished.

*

“Who dare cut and burn my forest?” The giant spirit paced in agitation until its gaze fell on Katara and Zuko. It advanced. “You! It must have been you! I’ll have your souls for that!”

Zuko untangled his arms from Katara’s, and she was left on the ground while he stood to face down the spirit alone. “We didn’t do this!”

Hei Bai ignored him. Katara tried to stand but collapsed. Her head thudded with pain. The spirit drew himself upward and opened his mouth. Zuko moved in front of her and Katara wanted to scream at him for his stupidity.

There was a soft light in the night sky above them, and Katara twisted herself to watch as Yue stepped down from the crescent moon. Her chest relaxed; Yue would save them.

The moon spirit maneuvered to be between them and Hei Bai. Katara could only see her back, but Yue’s shoulders were square and her spine straight. She did not fear the woodland spirit.

“Hei Bai,” her voice was as cool and calm as the ocean, and just as deadly. “I watched them. They did not cause this.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled lightly at Katara. “Zuko was searching for survivors, and Katara is the only reason the entire forest was not engulfed.”

“Bah!” Hei Bai snarled. “He reeks of smoke; it is not just on his clothes, it is in his blood. Firebenders have hurt my trees too often in the past. I will not allow him to escape unscathed.”

“What do you plan on doing?”

Katara attempted to stand once more and succeeded in climbing to her feet. She swayed. Zuko was two, maybe three steps away. She could do this.

“I will take his spirit.” Katara stepped forward. “I will bind him to me and make him guardian of the forest.” She managed another stride. “He will be responsible for all who live here, for no less than two thousand years.”

Katara reached Zuko and grasped his arm tightly. He jumped but she paid him no mind. She would not allow her friend to be enslaved.

Yue glanced at Katara again, and this time her face was hopeful. “Does that mean you will let the waterbender go?”

Hei Bai didn’t even look at her. “Yes. Now leave, moon spirit,” he said with a dismissive wave of one of his smaller black arms. His focus fixed back on Zuko.

“No.” Katara stepped forward. Zuko’s arm tensed in her grip. “Let me take on some of his punishment.”

Behind her Zuko grew still. “Katara,” he breathed, “don’t do this.”

Hei Bai tilted his head and studied her. “Very well, little girl. You shall also become a spirit and guard my lands. You will each serve one thousand years in my service.”

Zuko rested his head in the curve of her neck and wound his free hand in her hair. “You’re so stupid sometimes.”

Katara looked to Yue. The spirit’s eyes were regretful but she turned to Hei Bai.

“If I may bestow a gift upon them?” He sneered but didn’t object. Yue cupped Katara’s face in her hands and kissed her brow. “Katara, daughter of the seas, for your sacrifice I will allow your spirit to enter the mortal world once a month, every time the moon is full.”

She reached around Katara and drew Zuko’s head up. “Zuko, son of fire, you will be allowed to cross over when the full moon and the rising sun both occupy the sky.”

Katara’s heart swelled with gratitude. She bowed to her friend.

Hei Bai cackled in the background. “However, you must fight against one another whenever you are here!”

Yue frowned.

“Can’t you do anything, Yue?” Katara knew she was asking a lot, especially for a girl who had willingly gotten herself into this mess.

Yue shook her head. “This is his realm, Katara. I may influence him, but even I cannot change his decisions.” She relinquished her grip on the pair and turned to Hei Bai. She dipped her chin and strode back into the sky.

Hei Bai grinned at them. “And every time you must appear to save my forest, you will lose time together.”

Katara wanted to object. She wanted to scream and rage that this wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t their fault. Instead, she clutched Zuko’s hand in her own and looked at him. His stared back, his eyes so familiar something deep in her chest ached.

“Zuko, know that you are my greatest friend and I’m sorry-“

She never saw the fist that struck them down.

Hei Bai pulled the spirits from their bodies and flung Zuko’s to the stars when the heat of it burned him. He stared at the swirling blue one in his hand. What strange creatures humans were. Almost as if in response to his thoughts, the soul turned to ice so quickly it clung to his skin. Hei Bai snarled and shook it off. It plopped into the river.

“Enjoy your new homes.”

Then he ran back into the forest.

*

In the Water Tribes, occasionally a story was told of a chief who was visited by the moon spirit. He had been a wise and strong leader, and that is why, they said, the lady of the night sky stepped into his dreams and gave him news of his sister, who had been missing for quite some time.

The chief had many powerful friends, and he traveled to the Fire Nation to discuss this with them. He met with the Fire Lord Regent, the only metalbender in the world, and the Avatar. They scoured the world, searching for the chief’s sister and her traveling companion, the Fire Lord. The Avatar especially was distraught by the loss of his friends, and he spent many years of his life combing the Earth Kingdom for a clue as to where they had gone.

Eventually someone else was named Fire Lord, and the chief stepped down from his post. The Avatar passed on, and a new one was born.

No one in the Water Tribes- nor in any of the other nations- knew what had happened to the sister. Some said she had run away with the Fire Lord to start a new life. Others thought she had killed him to protect the world from his family’s madness (though those who believed that were few and far between).

The people of Tonrar never heard such stories. They thanked Ratna and Durjaya for guarding over them and their homes, and were content to live their lives in the shadows of the forest.

One morning, hundreds of years after Tonrar was named, a young girl named Ekta hid and watched the two spirits spar. She was close enough to see things no other villager had witnessed- the tears on Ratna’s face, or how Durjaya purposefully sent his flames a little to the side of his opponent.

And she saw, before the steam had truly settled, how Durjaya clutched Ratna to his chest and bowed his head low.

“It’s been so long,” he said.

She laughed. “I’ve missed you.” He laughed too, but they were crying.

“It’s time,” Durjaya whispered. “I can feel him letting us go.”

Ratna nodded. “I love you.”

Durjaya did not seem surprised by the statement. Ekta was; no one had ever heard the spirits talk, let alone profess their love for one another. Why did they spend every meeting fighting?

He nodded and pulled her closer. And then, as the sun topped the trees, the scarred, man and the blue eyed woman faded away.

Ekta stared. They were gone. The spirits of Tonrar were gone.

She had yet to reach her eighth birthday, but Ekta was suddenly determined. She would protect her people, now that their guardians had left them.

She didn’t know how Ratna controlled water, but she carefully placed her feet in a similar position and raised her arms. At first, the water in the river continued to flow by, taking no notice of her efforts. Ekta furrowed her brow and tried again. This time, when she lifted her hand, a sphere of water trembled into being above the surface of the stream.

Ekta smiled and wondered if she could control fire too, like Durjaya. It was harder to figure out, but she planted her feet firmly, thought fierce thoughts, and punched out her fist. Fire appeared; it was nothing like Durjaya’s massive, roaring flames, but it was fire.

She smiled and ran back to the village to tell her parents. Behind her, a tiny whirlpool appeared in the middle of the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it (for this year at least). Thank you all so much for your kudos and wonderful comments! I'm so happy with the way these all turned out and I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.
> 
> Have a great rest of the summer, and I'll (hopefully) see you all again next year!
> 
> Skats


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